Her Own Worst Enemy
by Perspex13
Summary: She was so focused on keeping him safe that she didn't consider what might happen while she was away, didn't consider the one person who could call her on her behavior and maybe even lure him away.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Her Own Worst Enemy

Rating: T

Timeline: Season 8

Summary: She was so focused on keeping him safe that she didn't consider what might happen while she was away, didn't consider the one person who could call her on her behavior and maybe even lure him away.

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. But my thanks to those who created them and let us play.

A/N: As I learned last time I was writing a long story, sometimes little one-shot ideas pop up and offer a nice, temporary break. This one-shot is a brief diversion, I'm already back and writing on Running Water, which should post on the weekend.

Buckle up. More notes below.

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* * *

The text message arrived just before noon, from an unknown number.

 **Castle's gone.**

Those two simple words awoke fears she'd thought were buried and blew away all thoughts of shadowy CIA rogues, active homicides, and precinct administration.

When calls to his cell went unanswered, Beckett used the cover of a lunch outing to investigate. After a breakneck drive to Broome Street, she braved the inquisitive looks from Eduardo and the Coopers from 3A to return to her once-and-future home.

A nervous breath she hadn't realized she was holding exploded in a relieved sigh when her key still slotted into the lock, admitting her into the loft. Her relief was short-lived, however. Aside from a robotic voice that went curiously quiet after she finally identified herself, she didn't find her husband. The other things she didn't find – his laptop, his toiletries, and the leather satchel he prefers for short trips – made her wonder about whether he'd really disappeared or had opted to take a trip without telling her. The possibility of the latter didn't provide any comfort. At least she still saw herself looking out of the framed photographs tucked away on ledges, bookshelves, and the piano top.

From the quiet comfort of the loft, Beckett tried to check in with others who might be able to help.

Castle's car service hadn't made any pickups, nor was anything on the schedule.

Tory Ellis, without knowing the nature of the associated text message, confirmed that the number provided by the captain belongs to a pre-paid cellphone that's not currently active. She promised to continue to ping the phone in case it was turned on later in the day, but there's nothing else to be gleaned on that front.

Their old friend Chief Brady was happy to check the Hamptons house without asking many questions, accustomed to serving a community rife with privacy concerns. He reported that the house was secure and vacant, offering to check again later in the day.

Brian told her that Castle wasn't at the Old Haunt, hadn't been for several days. There's a staff meeting next Tuesday, he offered in an attempt to be helpful.

Martha was detached but polite when Beckett called, noting that she'd not seen Richard for three days. "Ordinarily, that wouldn't be unusual, Katherine," Martha had confided, "but he's needed some extra attention lately."

Now, worry warring with guilt, she stands at the door of her last option. She'd hoped to find him without facing this challenge. Taking a fortifying breath, she knocks sharply.

The click-clack of heels that precedes the opening of the door causes Beckett's anxiety to ratchet higher with each step.

"Captain Beckett," Alexis greets coolly as she turns her back on her step-mother and walks into the office. Upon reaching the desk, she turns and leans against it, arms crossed and demeanor imperious. "How might RCI assist the NYPD today?"

"Hi, Alexis," Beckett starts, noting that the salutation has no effect on Castle's daughter. "I'm not here in an official capacity. I was hoping to see your father."

Alexis remains fixed in place, inspecting Beckett. Without speaking, she stands and walks around the desk before sitting primly in the office chair. Opening a ledger and running her finger down a column, she looks up inquisitively. "Do you have an appointment?"

"I need an appointment to see my husband?" Beckett asks as she steps forward and lowers herself into a guest chair.

"It goes both ways, Captain," Alexis replies primly. "He's next scheduled to be here in two days. 3:00 is open."

"He's not here now?" Beckett asks, glancing toward the bookcase that hides Castle's safe room/man cave.

"He's not here today," Alexis answers with irritation. "Though I appreciate your need for evidence," she says crossly as she stands and walks to the bookcase, opening the hidden door and gesturing with an exaggerated flourish to the vacant room.

"Alexis, I know you're not happy with me…," Beckett starts to explain.

"Save it, Captain," Alexis interrupts with a raised palm. "I don't want to hear your rationalizations or excuses. You wouldn't be here if you didn't need something. How may we deign to serve you?"

"Alexis, please," Beckett replies, shocked that her reception is even colder than she expected. "I just want to see Rick."

"Right," Alexis replies skeptically. "Your burning desire to see him has been well demonstrated."

"I think he's in trouble," Beckett confesses to counter Alexis' sarcasm. "I got a text saying that he's gone. I'm just trying to make sure he's okay."

Finally, Alexis' façade cracks at hearing that her father might be in trouble. Turning away from Beckett, she returns to her seat and picks up the phone handset from the desk.

"Who are you calling – Meredith? Gina?" Beckett asks, receiving only a disgusted eye roll in return.

"Hey," Alexis speaks once her call has connected, "it's Alexis. When's the last time you saw Dad? Yeah, I bet he was. He was he okay, then? Sounds like him. But you haven't seen him today? Will you see if you can get a hold of him, then give me call? Yes, please. Thanks, Hayley."

"Why would she know where Castle is?" Beckett asks, failing to mask the nature of her concern.

"Don't even try to play the jealousy card," Alexis scoffs while opening a drawer in the desk and extracting a manila envelope that she waves at Beckett. "When you're off getting sweaty or spending late nights in the car with Mr. Singh, you've lost all credibility on that front."

"That's not… I'd never…," Beckett stutters. "That's for a case, Alexis. A dangerous case that I'm trying to make sure doesn't hurt your father. How'd you even know about that?"

Sighing and shaking her head, Alexis rises from her seat and walks out of the room. Realizing that she's not waiting, Beckett rises and steps quickly to catch up.

"Did you not see the sign on the door?" Alexis asks as she opens the door to Richard Castle Investigations and gestures for Beckett to leave. "Documenting crumbling marriages and infidelity are something of a specialty here. We'll send a text update on your request. Good day, Captain."

With the echo of the closing door ringing down the hall to emphasize that her last option turned even more sour than she expected, Beckett's left with one simple option. Standing in the hallway of Castle's PI office, she extracts her cellphone and starts typing.

 **Where is he? Is he alright?**

Her reply to the text that started this hunt might be brief, but it addresses her most pressing concerns. Now, she waits. Perhaps Hayley will find a lead. Beckett's willing to swallow her concern about the woman, at least in the short term, if she can provide information on Castle. Or, maybe it's time to pull in some favors, collect the CCTV footage from around the loft. There will be consequences for abusing police resources. But there's no missing person report to justify any official effort, and she's in the uncomfortable position of not being able to file one, since she doesn't see him outside of the precinct.

It's the text reply that gets the first response, causing her phone to chirp as she approaches the precinct. She suspects that the sender has his phone turned off to avoid being tracked, only powering up occasionally and briefly to check for new messages. Beckett's not sure if the relatively prompt reply is good news or bad news, her fumbling anxiety leading to three failed attempts to unlock her phone before she can read the text message that arrived from the same unknown number.

 **Carbone's, 8:00.**

She remembers Carbone's, an Italian osteria near her old apartment. It's probably a good choice for a meeting – public, but low-lit to contribute to the ambiance, with deep booths for private discussions. She'd enjoyed frequenting the place back when she lived nearby, but hadn't thought of it since moving out of the neighborhood.

Blessing the perk of her new position, Beckett pulls into her parking spot at the precinct. But rather than enter, she sends a quick text message to Ryan and Esposito. She's going to find out what kind of trouble Castle's in, and she's not going alone.

* * *

Second-guessing her decision to go in without a wire again, Beckett strolls to the door of Carbone's with a forced casualness. There's a fair chance she'll be checked for a wire or that technical measures will be employed to interfere with recordings. The clincher in her decision, though, was her desire to keep this meeting off the radar of One PP. Her captaincy started on rocky ground after skipping the first day and approaching the media without approval. She's being watched carefully right now, and not just by those she pursues. Commandeering surveillance equipment and maybe even staff for an undocumented, personal case would certainly fall in the category of 'inappropriate use of resources.'

Stepping into the restaurant, she's drawn back to old memories by the nearly-forgotten smells and once-familiar decor. Ironically, she's reminded that this would've been a perfect place to take her husband out to dinner. Ostensibly taking in the atmosphere, Beckett looks around to assess the tactical implications of this meeting site. Her recollection was nearly perfect, both in terms of layout and lighting. She's not seen Esposito or Ryan, but she'd asked them to keep out of sight.

Before she can step up to the podium and request a table, the server approaches her. "Right this way," the young, blonde woman says cordially. "Your sister is already here."

Sister, huh? Not terribly imaginative for a cover story, and one that's easily refuted, Beckett thinks. Until she approaches the booth to which the server has directed her and sees her dinner companion. Only years of training and a strict adherence to rational evidence gathering prevents her from collapsing into her side of the booth.

"Hello, Captain Beckett," offers her doppelganger from the other side of the table. "I'd introduce myself, but I think you already know who I am," she offers with a small smile.

Staring at her twin, Beckett can't stop hearing Castle's delighted voice echoing in her head. _Clones, Beckett! Clones! Or maybe an alien shape-shifter. Have you done anything to warrant the interest of an intergalactic bounty-hunter?_

Noting her distress with muted amusement, the woman on the other side of the table speaks again. "Perhaps this will help," she offers as she unbuttons the top of her blouse, opening it wide enough to expose the top of her cleavage. Beckett's lack of an objection is a testament to how bizarre this scenario really is. Rather than object to what's going on, Beckett feels her eyes drop down to her guest's chest, stifling the irreverent part of her mind that tells her she's acting like Castle. She unabashedly looks at her companion's chest to see pristine skin unmarred by scar tissue.

"No?" offers the visitor, "Still not making the connection? Perhaps if we discussed a certain artifact, the theft of which was related to a case of yours a year ago?"

"You!" Beckett finally stutters, mind reeling. Apparently, she's sitting across the table from a figment of Castle's imagination, a version of herself conjured by stress, guilt, and a head injury.

"Me," her guest confirms, "though that'll make this conversation a bit confusing. And now that you've been promoted – congratulations, by the way – we can't use titles to differentiate between us. You seem pretty fixated on surnames – why not call me Kate?" she suggests with a smirk.

"Where's Castle?" Beckett asks directly, ignoring the ridiculous context of this meeting to focus on what brought her here. "Is he safe?"

"Rick's fine," Kate answers calmly. "He's just pulling some information together for me before we meet up later tonight."

"What's going on?" Beckett demands, her discomfort around this scenario giving way to anger. "If he's safe, why all the mystery with the text messages?"

"When I first met Rick, the Rick from here, I thought he was a raving lunatic. This stranger, who was a cautionary tale of wasted talent and intemperance where I come from, landed in my precinct and upset everything he touched," Kate reminisces, eyes focusing in the distance as she recollects. "I couldn't decide if I should throttle him, arrest him, or commit him. From what I saw at your precinct today, that might be his regular MO."

"You were in my precinct?" Beckett asks, distracted from her inquiry by thinking about security breaches before she realizes that no one would bother to challenge Captain Beckett.

"Sure," Kate replies easily. "That was half the reason for the text. I needed to check on some things at the precinct, which would've been inconvenient with you around. As it is, your staff thinks you're a bit of an indecisive diva, what with the wardrobe changes during the day," she grins while she waves a hand between them to highlight their different outfits.

"I guess the laws are a little more lax where you come from?" Beckett asks acidly, feeling ridiculously betrayed by herself.

"Please," Kate scoffs, "whom am I impersonating? I've been a captain longer than you have. And exactly how would you propose to arrest me or to explain who I am? It seems to me treading that path would raise some thorny questions for you," she laughs. "Besides, who the hell are you to talk about breaking the law? Gone rogue today? Shot anyone, stolen any medical supplies, falsely imprisoned any poor shop owners? I'm astounded that you're still a captain given how you decided to start your tenure. It kind of cheapens it for the rest of us."

"You seem surprisingly well-informed for someone who's not from around here," Beckett prompts, wondering exactly how much her alternate-realty self knows about her current circumstances.

"Did you seriously think that I wouldn't be able to guess your – well, I guess _our_ – computer password?" Kate replies with an eye roll. "Plus, I've made some friends here."

"Like Castle?" Beckett guesses. "What'd you do – call him up pretending to be me to lure him away?"

"Yes," Kate confesses, "that's exactly what I did. I called him this morning and asked him to join me at the swings. Yes," she says, noting Beckett's look of confusion, "he told me that story during his visit, back when he was trying to convince me that I knew him. When he arrived I clarified who I was and he agreed to help me. He seemed pretty anxious to be a help, actually. And pretty excited about the whole alternate-reality thing."

"I can imagine," Beckett can't help but to reply. Before she can launch her next salvo in this odd battle, though, their food arrives. Given the nature of the conversation, Beckett had nearly forgotten that they're sitting in a restaurant.

"I ordered for us," Kate explains good-naturedly. "Go ahead, it's our favorite."

"I know what my favorite is, thank you very much," Beckett fires back in reply, "and this isn't it."

"I think you'll be surprised," Kate answers equably. "The owner revised the menu last year. I eat here at least once a week, so trust me, I've tried it all."

"You still live around here?" Beckett asks almost against her will, curiosity winning out over the bizarre circumstances.

"Sure," Kate replies. "Never saw a reason to move. You wouldn't believe the deal I'm getting on rent," she teases.

Of course. Where she comes from, she and Castle hadn't met, so there was no Nikki Heat, Beckett realizes. No Nikki Heat, no Scott Dunn cat and mouse nonsense, or at least not of that variety.

"So," Beckett starts, her ruminations on Nikki Heat refocusing her, "what, exactly, is my husband doing to help you?"

Looking sour herself, Kate bites back a reply and opts to answer the question rather than address its wording. "He's collecting everything he has on mom's case – his notes and anything else he's collected on Bracken and LockSat. And his collected Nikki Heat works – can't get those where I'm from."

It doesn't matter that Kate had accurately predicted Beckett's dinner preferences, because it all tastes like ash in her mouth after that statement. "LockSat?" she nearly moans. "How do you know about that?"

"Rick knows more than you give him credit for," Kate replies with a tone of disappointment.

"Where you come from," Beckett asks after taking a gulp of water, "have they been arrested or…," she trails off, perversely hoping that a more terrible fate has befallen her enemies.

"No," Kate answers sadly. "Rick left me a letter from his visit," Kate says, unconsciously reaching toward the pocket of her blazer. "The letter explained what happened to you, here," she says, tapping her chest. "He implored me not to go off half-cocked. Promised that he'd help me if I didn't have Bracken within a year. I've got the tape, but it's not enough by itself. Where I come from, Bracken's still trying to run for President. It hasn't gone well for him – life as an independent excludes him from the debates – but he's making a strong enough showing that he's a likely favorite for an appointment, maybe even to State."

"Him at the State Department and his partner in the CIA?" Beckett thinks out loud. "That's a deadly tandem."

Kate nods sadly. "That's one of the reasons I'm here. Between what Rick's already told me, the files he has, and the files I copied at the precinct, I can come at him in ways he can't imagine. Hell, I even know how to track down Smith."

"What a minute," Beckett interjects, "what do you mean 'one of the reasons?'"

"Do you know how heartbreaking it was, to put mom's case away, to focus only on a career? Youngest detective. Youngest captain. A life hidden behind walls, buried in work, with every fucking elephant I see a reminder of my failure? I let the years pile on top of me, slowly compressing my life into one humorless, dreary existence. I'd forgotten the possibility of joy," she says quietly.

"And then," Kate continues after collecting herself with a sip of water, "this jackass literally drops from the sky. He delights in pushing my buttons. He revels in tweaking convention and tilting at windmills. And he's insufferably right, about the case, about me, about how things should be…"

"You love him," Beckett whispers. "You're not here for mom, you're here for him."

"Of course I'm here for him," Kate confirms. "Don't you get it? He _died_ for me – jumped in front of me in time to take two to the chest. He told me he loved me and then he died. Not immediately – he held on long enough to make it to the hospital, long enough to say goodbye to his mother and daughter – and then he died, while I stood there in front of his family covered in his blood. How many men have we known who would do that? He was in my life so briefly," Kate struggles to explain, "but I felt it even before he left. And it's only grown more intense since then."

"You can't have him," Beckett growls fiercely. "He's _my_ husband. We've gone through too much, overcome too many obstacles, for you to waltz in and interfere."

"He is _not_ your husband," Kate replies in an equally fierce tone. "Do you have any idea how shocked I've been today? I'm amazed that I'm still on my fucking feet. Twelve hours – over the course of twelve hours I've learned that dad's still alive and sober, that Rick married you on the same day I saw him die, that mom's memory lives on thanks to an endowed scholarship, and that Bracken was arrested – on national TV! – arrested and imprisoned. You had it all – absolutely everything I always wanted, more than I ever imagined I could have."

Kate winds down for a moment, closing her eyes to imagine how differently things could've gone.

"And then you threw him away," Kate says in a voice of incredulity. "This man, this man who in this reality is a wonderful father and son, a gifted author and steadfast friend. This man who loves you so beyond reason that he bulled his way through my precinct and took over my investigation just to find a way back to you… This man you walk away from," she concludes emotionally, shaking her head.

"I didn't throw him away," Beckett argues passionately, "I'm keeping him safe. You don't get it, because you haven't seen him. You don't know what he did after I got this," she says, tapping on her own chest. "If he gets a single whiff of a case like this, he won't stop. He'll promise he will, but he won't be able to help himself. He'll dive into it in an effort to protect me, putting his own life on the line, with no training, no support, nothing but stubbornness to defend himself."

"So, you protect his heart by tearing it out?" Kate asks in response. "How does that make any sense? He came running this morning because he thought I was you, thought that he would actually get to talk to his 'wife,'" Kate says with air quotes to emphasize her view on Beckett's role. "Even before I explained who I was, he started apologizing, asking what he'd done wrong, what caused me to walk out on him."

"It's temporary," Beckett replies while trying to hide the hurt she feels from imagining Castle's distress, the dismay she feels imagining his brightening face when he learned the true identity of his visitor. "We've already got good leads."

"I'm sure Rick will take solace that your choice to walk away, to replace him with Vikram, is only 'temporary,'" Kate sneers. "And that's assuming you're not deluding yourself about how quickly this could all end, assuming you're still above the ground if that happens."

"So, you've spoken with Alexis," Beckett replies, heart sinking even lower. "I'm not _seeing_ Vikram. He knows this is just about the case."

"I met Vikram before I met Alexis," Kate clarifies, "and I've seen the look he gave me before. I imagine you have, too, if you'd just let yourself realize it. But no, I'm sure you're right," Kate pivots facetiously. "After all, it's not like there's any precedent for you turning to people who support your quest, is there? No reason for someone who already envies Rick to hope for something more?"

This is the last thing she needs, Beckett thinks. But way back at the beginning, Vikram did say that the allure of the AG's office was to impress women. And he is protective of the time they spend on the case…

"I don't know," Kate interjects, "if I should be more or less impressed that you're not messing around with him. If you are, it means you're a complete idiot, rejecting Rick in favor of him. But, if you're not, then you've invited him to fill Rick's place with the full understanding that he's expendable. Did you at least buy him a red Star Trek shirt?"

"You don't understand," Beckett tacks, "and you should appreciate this more than anyone. Bracken didn't act alone – he had a partner. How can you sit there and criticize me for trying to end this?"

"So, Bracken had a partner," Kate replies. "He probably also has a lieutenant. And an accountant. Hell, maybe he confides to his barber or his dog-walker. Where does it end? _Does_ it end? Ever?"

"People are _dead_ because I looked into this," Beckett replies earnestly, trying to get Kate to understand. "My entire team from the AG's office – they're all dead because I looked into this case."

"I understand that," Kate replies, actually sounding empathetic. "I do. But what I don't understand is why that means you need to be the avenging angel, or why you're tossing aside the man who supported you for seven years in favor of a team that tossed you out after a few months. And if _I_ don't understand you, why do you think Rick will welcome you back if you succeed on this fool's errand?"

"Fool's errand?" Beckett nearly shouts before she recalls where they are. "You told me fifteen minutes ago that you're stuffing your pockets full of stolen files so you can go back to wherever the hell you come from to do the same damn thing!"

"Here's the difference," Kate replies calmly, refusing to rise to Beckett's challenge. "In," she glances at her watch – an elegant ladies' watch of delicate silver rather than her father's watch – and looks up again, "just over an hour, I'll meet up with Rick. I'll thank him for his efforts on my behalf, and yours. And then I'm going to ask him to go back with me. I'll offer him what it sounds like you never have – complete and total honesty. If he wants me to leave the files on mom's case here, I will."

"So, after all this, you're just some kind of what? Interdimensional homewrecker?" Beckett mocks. "You don't know Castle at all if you think he'll walk away from me."

"Now who's kidding herself?" Kate replies. "I'm not asking him to walk away from his wife, who's already discarded him by the way. I'm asking him to walk towards a different version of her."

"He'd never leave Alexis," Beckett replies, well aware that by shifting the focus of the discussion, she's acknowledging that Kate's offer might appeal to Castle.

"She's thinking about it," Kate answers quietly, "and she'll be part of the decision. What do you think she'll do?" in response to Beckett's look of betrayal. "She knows, I mean _really_ knows down to her soul, that her father is hopelessly in love with Kate Beckett. If she has to choose between us, do you think she'd want her father around and miserable or away and happy?" Kate asks. Without waiting for an answer, she plows ahead. "And, don't forget – the Rick Castle where I come from was such a disaster that Alexis chose to live with Meredith. The results aren't pretty. But in the short time Rick spent where I come from, he made an even more meaningful connection with Alexis than he did with me. I think the chance to share her father with a struggling version of herself appeals to Alexis."

"But he's dead there," Beckett objects. "You just told me that he said goodbye to Alexis and Martha and then died," her voice cracks when imagining Castle bleeding out in a hospital. "How is he just supposed to reappear there?" she challenges.

"Even here," Kate replies with a surprising smile, "I get the feeling that people wouldn't be surprised if Rick faked his own death. Back at home? It'd be more surprising that he hasn't. Or, if he wants to start over, he could come back as someone else. I actually have a plan that sounds insane but I imagine might appeal to Rick's love for the bizarre." When Beckett refuses to take the bait, Kate continues anyway. "One other warning Rick left me in his letter described the consequences of our disastrous trip to Vegas. In my reality, Rogan O'Leary is missing and presumed dead. Since the marriage paperwork is already filed, I wonder if Rick wouldn't enjoy the irony of assuming his identity."

"And so in this blissful Neverland," Beckett exaggerates, "Rogan O'Leary becomes the author of the Nikki Heat series and the two of you live happily ever after?"

"Perhaps," Kate replies, "I'm less interested in the details than I am in the main point. But," she says conspiratorially, pushing Beckett nearly to the point of violence, "if he does release those books back at home, we're coming up with a less puerile name for the detective."

"What's to stop me from detaining you, preventing this meeting with Castle?" Beckett asks, using broad gestures to reach for her water glass while her other hand casually slips her phone from her pocket, preparing to call in the boys.

"You can't take me alone," Kate says confidently, "and you are alone. I sent Ryan and Espo home when they showed up. As I mentioned earlier, I've been captain far longer than you. And, if you'll pardon the presumption, I'm also more adept at seeing the big picture."

"So, I'm just supposed to sit here while you go proposition my husband?" Beckett asks in a tone that started as a challenge and ended with a bewildered look. "Let him go without even a chance to ask him to stay?"

"You've had more than seven years to ask him to stay," Kate replies. "If he accompanies me based on one chance meeting and a handful of hours today, he was never yours." Before Beckett can reply, Kate offers one more thought. "Why are you fighting me on this? You want him safe, you want him happy. Can you imagine a circumstance where he'd be happier or safer than with a Kate Beckett who accepts him, who loves him openly, who puts him first?"

"But he's my husband," Beckett answers in a small voice.

"And regardless of his choice, he'll be with Kate Beckett," Kate replies as she stands. "He told me how hurt you were by his disappearance," she says as she carefully places enough money on the table to cover their tab. "I didn't want you to wonder what'd happened to him," she explains, "or to unnecessarily distract your LockSat investigation by having you waste time looking for him."

When Beckett doesn't reply, Kate looks towards the door, but can't seem to leave quite yet. "Being married suits Ryan – make sure you remind him what a lucky guy he is. Back at home, he's barely hanging on. And tell Lanie that Charlotte's a beautiful name, regardless of whatever her parents think. And dad – treasure him. You don't know how lucky you are to have him."

With that, Kate seems to run out of words, too. She stands beside the table, waiting in vain for a reply from Beckett.

"Goodbye, Beckett," Kate finally says. "If Rick joins me, I'll always be grateful for your help in getting him this far. Always," she says as she walks to the door and disappears into the night, her final word lodged in Beckett's chest like a knife.

Tears running down her face, Beckett picks up her phone, fumbling again to get the damn thing unlocked. Realizing that the shape of her future rides on this one last, desperate chance, she opens the text app and stares at the blank screen. Thinking about everything she heard tonight, she struggles to find the words that might very well be the last ones she'll ever have for him. Finally, with a heart-rending sigh, she types. It's a short message, but it still takes all of her reserve to type it and hit send.

 **Follow your heart, Castle, and be happy. I love you. Always.**

* * *

A/N2: I'm not a fan of the current story arc. Not only has it bruised the heart of the show, but the characters are becoming difficult to recognize based on the choices they make. I got to thinking about whether there is anyone who could challenge Beckett, make her step back and think about the bigger picture. Castle and her father tried back when it was Bracken she was hunting. So I wondered about who else could step up, and that's where this story came from. I'm not into Kate bashing and I actually like her as a character, so I like the idea of her alternate self being able to challenge her. As for Castle, I wrote this before "Cool Boys," but here's hoping the pep talk there gets Castle back on track.

I've tried to stay away from a Season 8 story, but decided to jump in for this quick one-shot. It's a bit of a deviation from my usual take on things (more in tone than in style), so if you'd like to review the story above, I'd like to hear from you. I've got the guest reviewer filter on and will happily pass along any comments that are constructive, even if they're negative. Thanks!

Humongous thanks, too, to CaskettFan5 and GeekMom for giving this a read. Their help is greatly appreciated. But don't blame them if you don't like the story – that's on me.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. But my thanks to those who created them and let us play.

A/N: An idea for another chapter popped into my head a while ago and just wouldn't let go. I'm not sure it's going to go over well – comments about what should happen were pretty evenly split after the first chapter, so at least some folks might be disappointed. I thought about putting this out as a separate story rather than a second chapter, because a part of me really likes the first chapter as a stand-alone. So, if you feel the same way, you might want to take a pass on this chapter.

Buckle up again. More notes below.

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* * *

The greeting from Tomas, Eduardo's late-night relief, if far too bright and ready when Beckett enters the Broome Street lobby for the second time in the same day. Her arrival this morning obviously caused notice and discussion; that she's back again will certainly be news tendered to Eduardo when he arrives in the morning. She's not been here twice in the same day since… since she left. Even so, it's no less terrifying than it was this morning.

As she did earlier today, she pauses again in front of the loft's door, uncertain of what she'll find once she pushes her way inside. Her husband, she hopes. Maybe alone, maybe with 'Kate,' the version of herself who was able to put her mother's case aside. The version of herself who calmly told Beckett that she was going to ask Castle to accompany her when she returned to wherever she came from, who promised to treat him more fairly and honestly than Beckett has been able to in less than a year of marriage. _That's not what I meant by one and done._

But she's finished with being passive, finished trusting a feeble text message be her last effort to keep her husband and her key to the future for which she's fighting with such effort and pain. She's fought for everything in her life since her mother was murdered, and the realization that she nearly let Castle hear Kate's offer without a fight shames her to the core.

With a deep breath, Beckett fortifies herself, donning and then discarding her professional persona. She's here as his wife, not as an officer. With that reminder, she slots her key into the lock. Her heart soars when the door is opened from the inside before she's even fully inserted the key.

"Oh," says a disappointed Alexis. "It's you."

Castle's daughter turns and walks away in apparent indifference to whether Beckett enters or not.

Clearly, Castle's not here, leaving Beckett torn as to whether she should continue her hunt or talk to Alexis. Recalling the young woman's look of anxiety as she opened the door, Beckett decides to pursue Alexis. In the worst case, they might not have the buffer of Castle between them for any future communications, though those would probably be scant. Besides, even if he won't stay for me, Beckett thinks, maybe he'll stay for Alexis.

She knows she's being selfish, knows that Kate's offer to put Castle first should be a larger consideration in her mind. But since she's had to imagine a future where there's no possibility of Castle, she can't bring herself to let him go.

Entering the loft, Beckett quietly closes the door and takes several steps inside. Alexis is sitting on the sofa, staring at the laser tag gun she's idly turning over in her hands.

With a quick prayer that this conversation will go better than the one they had earlier today, Beckett walks towards Alexis, who doesn't acknowledge her presence.

"I'm going to ask him to stay," Beckett says after her approach fails to catch Alexis' attention. "I'm going to beg him to stay."

Her words have no more effect on the young woman than did her footsteps that rang through the empty loft. Alexis still sits in place, lost deep in thought, the toy a talisman in her hands. When several minutes pass with no recognition, Beckett prepares to resume the hunt for her husband. _After all_ , she thinks with a pessimistic huff, _Alexis and I can avoid talking to each other anytime_.

"I told her I'd tell him to go," Alexis says quietly, still looking down. "He needs to be happy, to finally do what's best for him. And if he won't do that," she says as the tears start to crawl down her cheeks, "the me there needs him more than I do," she says as she looks down at where a tear splashed on the back of her hand. "But I don't want him to go."

After a long probationary period, Beckett and Alexis had developed something of a physical comfort with each other – greeting hugs, departure kisses, an affectionate shoulder-rub or hip-bump when feeling lighthearted. Those days are long gone, one more casualty of all of the events and decisions following Beckett's first day as a Captain. But Alexis is hurting and Beckett wants to offer some support.

Her seeking hand is nearly on Alexis' shoulder when the young woman looks up with a glare. "This is your fault," she seethes in a low, hostile voice. "If you were here, he'd never consider leaving. If you treated him like a husband… no, if you treated him like a _person_ , he'd stay. But he's not. He's a liability… an embarrassment."

Oddly, Alexis' voice had grown less strident with every comment, until 'embarrassment' could barely be heard over the sound of her sigh. She seems to anticipate the futility of arguing with Beckett, so she stops before she starts. Instead, she stands and drops the toy on the couch as she prepares to leave.

"You're right," Beckett says quietly but clearly. Alexis whips her head around, looking more fierce than Beckett could ever have imagined. Beckett's shocked to see balled fists at Alexis' sides, the young woman twitching to lash out. Castle's daughter's probably been waiting for a chance like this. Beckett speaks quickly to clarify that she agrees with the first part of Alexis' statement, not the last.

"This is my fault," Beckett says while braving Alexis's glowering look. "It's my fault. If I'd treated him as he deserves, if I could be half the wife he deserves, he'd scoff at the prospect of leaving." _Not even for an interdimensional field trip!_ she can hear his voice in her head.

"What are you going to do about it?" Alexis challenges. "How are you going to 'fix' this?"

"I'm going to ask him to stay," Beckett replies, her answer sounding feeble in her ears. "I'm going to remind him of what he has here."

"A string of broken marriages, of people abusing his generous nature and his willingness to forgive?" Alexis asks incredulously. "You might as well push him out the damn door. Portal. Whatever the hell it is," she says in frustration, throwing her hands up in irritation at this whole unbelievable situation.

"No," Beckett answers, hoping the verbal slap she felt at Alexis' words isn't too obvious. "A wonderful family, a successful career, an extraordinary daughter who loves him deeply, and a broken woman who depends on him, who needs the promise of him just to keep going."

"I don't see how that makes anything better," Alexis confesses, her words all the more hurtful for their sincerity. "Why should he stay?" Alexis asks, the defeated tone in her voice slicing through Beckett. "Won't he feel worse when he realizes that you know what you're doing to him and you're doing it anyway?"

"Your dad changed for me," Beckett admits quietly, her voice warbling as it tries to include both pride and shame. "He grew up, at least in some ways, to give us a chance," she adds with a small, wistful smile. "Now it's my turn," she says simply, hoping that Alexis will accept this explanation. She's not sure she can be more explicit. _Which is something I'd better fix_ , she thinks, _before I find Castle_.

The silence following her statement is oppressive, not pushing her down but towards the door.

"I wish he didn't love you," Alexis finally says. "Go."

Beckett's not sure whether she's being dismissed or regretfully encouraged. Her confusion must be clear, because Alexis clarifies after a short sigh. "I think he's at the Haunt."

"So, let's go," Beckett replies.

Alexis' eyebrows rise in surprise at the invitation. Her look quickly shifts to one of suspicion, probably concluding that this is one more selfish move by Beckett, one more lever to manipulate Castle. _Maybe it is_ , Beckett thinks. _But I can make amends later, as long as he's here_.

"He can't hold me accountable for my behavior if he's not here," Beckett says, trying for the levity that Castle seems to find so easily during stressful situations. "Besides, if he leaves, it'll just be you, me, and Martha."

"I'll get my coat."

* * *

"Come in," Castle calls from behind his desk in his subterranean office at the Old Haunt, just putting the finishing touches on the documents arrayed in front of him in three different piles. With a nod and a satisfied look, he butts the corners to align the stacks, then leans back in his chair.

"Hi, Rick," Kate says as she enters his office, looking around the room with a sense of curiosity. "Nice place you've got here. Back where I come from, this is a parking deck following the dismal but welcome failure of the McChucklenuts Corporation."

"Sure it is," Castle says doubtfully with a playful voice. "How do I know you're not my Beckett, just playing a prank on me?"

"In this reality or my own," Kate returns with a stern look that almost hides her smile, "I'm a hell of an investigator, Rick. You're just hoping for a look at my chest."

"Some things are constant across all realities," Castle admits with a shrug, pulling a laugh from Kate. "So, did you enjoy your day bumming around my world?"

"I did," Kate affirms with a smile. "It was weird, though – every time I started to feel at home, something unexpected would remind me that I'm not in Kansas anymore," she laughs. "Thankfully, the ubiquity of Starbucks was a reminder that some things don't change. I finally know how you must've felt last year, though at least you were here to greet me. I don't remember your arrival in my world going so well."

"Let's see – a fiancé who didn't recognize me, team members who wanted to lock me up, a friend who was suddenly exceptionally pregnant, and when I finally stumbled home, instead of my unexpectedly goth daughter there was…" he stumbles and looks embarrassed, "someone else. Yeah, that was a rough landing," he jokes, trying to cover his gaffe.

"'Someone else,' huh?" Kate teases. "I don't remember hearing about that."

"I sent her home," Castle mumbles, blushing profusely. "I was engaged."

"You're a good man," Kate praises, letting him off the hook. "For welcoming me so warmly this morning, I mean," she teases again, prolonging his blush just a bit.

"Getting better, anyway," he mumbles again, surprising even Kate with this unexpected humility. "So," he says, anxious to change the subject, "did you get to see your dad?"

"I…" Kate trails off, suddenly as uncomfortable as Castle had been. "I couldn't," she says in a small voice. Concerned, Castle quickly rises from his seat and takes Kate's arm, leading her to the couch.

"I'm sorry, Kate," he sympathizes softly. "Let me get you a drink," he offers as she perches on the couch. He makes it half-way to the cabinet before he stops and spins in place. "Sorry, I was moving by instinct. I should ask what you'd like," he explains, chagrined.

"You know me, Rick," Kate says with an intense look. "I trust you."

Bemused, Castle gives his head a shake before resuming course. Extracting a bottle of vodka from the chilling cabinet, he pours Beckett a generous shot before pouring a whiskey for himself. Returning to the couch and taking a seat, he's met with a brilliant smile. "Perfect," Kate compliments.

Knocking it back in one go, Kate pauses a moment before forging ahead. "I saw him. Just before lunch. I waited outside his office just to see him." Pausing to gather herself, Kate looks at her empty glass before engaging with Castle again. "He would've seen through me immediately. I couldn't approach him. But, it was _so good_ to see him out and about," she says wistfully.

"I'm sorry, Kate," Castle says kindly as he places a hand on her forearm.

"'S okay," Kate rallies, changing topics. "I had some other interesting meetings instead."

"Lanie?" Castle guesses, removing his arm and sitting back, ready for a story.

"Honestly, Rick," Kate chastises him and rolls her eyes, "if my dad would see through me, Lanie would, too. Especially if I commented on how thin she looked," she laughs. "Though, to be fair, my Lanie's been a demon about working out since Charlotte's arrival."

"I'm still a little in awe of that situation," Castle chuckles, "and that you didn't have another homicide to investigate as a result. So," he continues, after a brief pause for her eye roll, "who _did_ you see?"

"Alexis," Kate fires back, smirking at his look of surprise. "And Captain Beckett."

"Wow," Castle falters, running a hand through his hair. "You were busy."

"Sorry if I overstepped," Kate says while sitting forward to close the distance between them, "but I wanted to meet them, talk to them."

"It's okay," Castle replies after a few moments, though his tone of voice suggests that he's not entirely comfortable with this development. "I'm sure you had some… _interesting_ discussions. I wish you would've warned me, though – I imagine your reception with Alexis wasn't a warm one."

"No," Kate admits, "it wasn't, at least not initially. But don't apologize – you didn't know about my plans and she's entitled to her reactions. Besides, I expected some chilliness after you described your marital situation to me," she says gently, but Castle still looks shamed as his eyes drop to his feet. "And she warmed up after we got to know each other a little bit."

"Good," Castle says with a bit of his fatherly pride creeping into his voice. "I imagine you got a different reaction from Beckett," he chuffs, then gets a devilish gleam in his eye. "Though I'm surprised she acknowledged your presence, since she resolutely believed that you were a figment of my imagination."

"Of your wildest dreams, maybe," Kate fires back with a saucy look, "not just of your imagination."

"Please," Castle begs playfully, " _please_ tell me that's what you discussed with Beckett. That would be quite a stimulating conversation," he says as his eyes go dreamy, unable to stop his mind from wandering.

"Pig," Kate laughs at his eyebrow waggle while reaching over to swat his arm. "But you're actually not too far off the mark," she says slyly, anxious to see his reaction.

" _Really?_ " Castle squeaks. "No," he says with a pout as he looks at her closely, "you're just messing with me," he concludes, still looking hopeful.

"I had with her," Kate says, growing serious, "the same conversation I had with Alexis. I wanted to hear their reactions."

"Their reactions to what?" Castle asks, growing confused.

"To my plan," she answers while looking into Castle's eyes. "The plan that brought me here."

"Oh," Castle answers, still confused. "Beckett could give you lots of information on Bracken, and you might've even been able to get her to talk to you about her other case," he says with a frown. "But Alexis wasn't involved in much of it, and I'm sure she'd prefer to forget whatever she knows."

"We did talk about Bracken, and I managed to obtain some information to help my case," Kate says as she leans forward, again putting her hand on Castle's arm. "But that's not why I came here," she says while lifting her free hand and making a circular motion to indicate that the "here" doesn't mean the Haunt, but rather this reality.

"Then what," Castle says, looking from Kate's eyes down to her hand on his arm and then back up, "brought you here?"

"I think you know," Kate says as she squeezes his arm. "I think you've known since the moment we saw each other, _here_ or _there_. I'm here for _you_ ," she says with a sweet, hopeful smile. "I'm here for _us_."

"I hate to tell you this, Kate," Castle says in a playful voice as he tries to deflect with humor, "but I'm married."

"To me," Kate answers with a nod.

"No," Castle says as he slowly shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "To my version of you."

"You're married to Kate Beckett," she answers confidently. "That's me. I suspect that there are versions of me in a million different realities, and that you'd love them all," she says as she rubs his arm affectionately. "Don't you deserve one who's better able to love you in return?"

"I don't even know you," Castle objects, looking confused.

"You know me better than anyone," she objects calmly. "Some of the little details are different, but you know me," she emphasizes. "You love me," she reminds him as she wonders if he even realizes that his hand is rubbing his chest where the bullets entered in her reality. "I'm your Kate, without the baggage. I'm your Kate who's here now, opening her life to you, not running or hiding."

"So, you want me to go back with you?" Castle asks, sitting back and studying Kate. "That's what you discussed with Alexis and Beckett?"

"It is," Kate affirms with a nod and another squeeze of his arm.

"And they were okay with it?" Castle asks, his shock warring with disappointment.

"Hey," Kate soothes while rubbing his arm. "They love you." Noticing his look of surprise, she continues. "Yes, even Beckett. But they understand. Alexis is worried, but she likes the idea of you helping my version of her, the lost girl who moved out to LA."

"And Beckett?" Castle prompts, still looking dazed.

"Captain Beckett…," Kate trails off, looking as if she's trying to avoid hurting his feelings. "She loves you, I know she does, and she'd like you to stay," she says while rubbing his arm again, like a kind doctor preparing to deliver a terrible diagnosis. "But, she's got another _case_ ," she pauses briefly before continuing with heart-breaking compassion, "another _person_ , capturing her attention now."

Castle's head falls as he stares at his lap, his efforts to borrow Beckett's trick of hiding foiled by his relatively short hair. He sits there lost in thought for several minutes. Kate sits by his side, gently caressing his arm and offering comfort.

After a while, Castle lifts his head to look at Kate. She's surprised by the look on his face. He's clear-eyed and composed. In fact, Castle looks almost intrigued.

"Do you know how many hours I've watched Beckett in interrogation? How many times I've faced off with her myself?" Castle says with an amused look. "In poker alone, we've played for pride, gummy bears, money, and clothes," he says with a smirk. "That last one, especially, gave me a fantastic reason to learn to read her."

"You're upset that you still didn't see this coming?" Kate asks kindly. "Rick, it happens. I wish it didn't, but how many of our cases result from a loved one doing something unexpected. Something disappointing?"

"True," Castle replies with a sigh. "So, if I go back with you…"

"Yes?" Kate asks with a smile that stretches wide.

"Would I be going back as partner, prize, or prisoner?" he asks, leaning forward while covering her hand on his arm with his own.

"What do you mean?" Kate asks in confusion, looking concerned.

"I mean," Castle says clearly, "would I be there as your partner to help bring down Bracken, your romantic companion, or the hostage to exchange for your father?"

* * *

"Hi, Brian," Beckett greets the bartender as she and Alexis enter, making their way toward the stairs down to Castle's office.

"Hey there…," Brian trails off as he looks at Beckett in confusion, thinking that she was already downstairs. Shaking his head and reminding himself that he probably just missed when she came back upstairs, he dismisses the thought that she's changed clothes. "Hi Alexis," he offers with a charming smile. "Can I get anything for you ladies?"

"No, thanks," the both offer in return. "We're just going down to see Dad," Alexis explains.

Brian sees them off with a wave, attention already captured by a lovely blonde customer.

They grow more tense and pensive with each step down the dark stairwell, until they're nearly rigid with anxiety when they reach the door. "Ready?" Beckett asks to break the tension. With Alexis' firm nod, Beckett pushes open the door in time to hear Castle say "your father."

Something about the combination of those words, Kate's paling, worried look, and Castle's penetrating stare sends alarms through Beckett. Sure, they're holding hands, but it doesn't look romantic. In fact, it looks like Castle's in a position to restrain Kate, or at least hold her back from something.

"Castle?" Beckett calls out as her hand instinctively reaches for the holster on her hip. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Castle smirks before quickly making eye contact with Alexis before returning his look to Kate. "We were just getting ready to play 'confessional.' Good timing, you two."

"What do you mean, 'confessional'?" Beckett asks, noticing that Kate's looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"Well, I suspect she's behind the disappearance of my phone," Castle says with a lifted brow and a smirk. "But the bigger issue is that Kate was about to explain why she really came here. Not the plan as we've heard it," he says while shooting a raised brow at the visitor, "but the motivation behind it. About her father."

"Dad?" Beckett asks, bewildered. As if today hasn't been stressful enough, now her father – or a version of her father – is also involved?

"This is your fault," Kate says as she pulls her hand free of Castle's grip. Standing and beginning to pace, she works herself up for an explanation. Alexis, meanwhile, goes to sit next to her father, while Beckett remains in place to block the door.

"You know me," Kate begins with a frustrated sigh. "You'd never met me, the real me," she talks while Beckett raises a brow at her description, "but you knew me right from the start." Her pacing picks up speed as her arm gestures become more abrupt. "How could you?" she accuses suddenly, spinning to face a confused Castle. "How could you leave me that letter? You must've known that I wouldn't be able to wait, would launch right back into mom's case."

Castle's countenance turns guilty as he thinks about how his best intentions went sour. "You weren't gone a week before I opened the letter, found the tape," Kate says as she continues to stride around the room. "But your Montgomery was apparently a better man than mine. I confronted him once I heard his voice on the tape, asked him how he could pretend to be my mentor while protecting mom's killer. It was a… tense conversation."

Beckett's fascinated by this turn of events – the thought of a world where Roy retired, wasn't gunned down in an airport hangar, and how that might've affected everything that followed. Alexis, though, looks furious.

"Wait a minute," Alexis interjects, interrupting the conversation. "You're angry at Dad because you couldn't control yourself?" she asks incredulously.

"He should've known better," Kate replies, unaffected by the girl's anger. "He, better than anyone, should've know better."

"Should've known better than to offer a drink to an alcoholic, right?" Castle sighs, his comment physically knocking both versions of the Captain back. Each are considering her recent behavior through the lens of addiction and neither is comfortable with the accuracy of the comparison. Alexis, the only one who doesn't appreciate the depth of the comment or its relevance to the others in the room, remains quiet while the other are lost in thought.

"Either Roy sold me out," Kate says to break the silence, "or Bracken was watching or listening. Either way," she says with a sigh, "he knew about the tape before I could do anything with it. A day after my meeting with Roy, I received a dossier in an unmarked package." Her tone makes it clear that her story is taking a dark turn and pulls the others into the tale.

"There was a note – handwritten, for that personal touch – that said 'After losing your mom, it would be terrible if anything happened to your dad,'" Kate says tonelessly while Beckett rocks back on her heals and the Castles let their heads drop. "Beneath the note were files and pictures. Not only did they have all his information, but they'd sent people into the bar to befriend him. Turns out he's a talkative drunk."

"No," Beckett mumbles, tears of heartache and betrayal finally breaking free. "He's not recovered?"

Looking sadly at her twin, Kate sinks back onto the couch and whispers a reply, as if she fears the louder she speaks the truer her words. "He recovers," she says as she wipes her own tears, "almost as often as he relapses. And now," she says, growing angry, "there's always someone nearby to offer him a drink and a sympathetic ear."

"You had to give up the tape?" Castle asks, seeing Kate's sad nod. "Did you come here on your own, or did he send you?"

"I didn't lie about why I'm here," Kate says, scrubbing her cheeks again. "Now I've got a copy of your recording and files. If I can get to Mr. Smith at home, it might be enough, especially if Bracken's not paying attention. I was hoping," she says with a direct look at Castle, "that I might have a partner whose skills in this regard would be totally unsuspected."

"So you were here for a partner," Castle nods, getting the answer to the question he asked just before Beckett and Alexis arrived.

"And the prize," Kate confesses, her look still lingering on Castle. "I want you, too. I want a future after Bracken goes away."

Beckett's not going to let that statement go unchallenged but Castle speaks first. "What about LockSat?" he asks Kate while turning to look at Beckett.

"Bracken is enough for me," Kate vows in response while shooting Beckett a look and recapturing Castle's attention. Meanwhile, Beckett seethes, hating herself for needing more and suspecting her twin of feeling the same way but posturing for Castle. "Without him, mom wouldn't have died. Others might've been involved, but he was the linchpin. She'll rest easier after he pays," Kate ends with a tone of fierce determination.

"Why the ruse?" Castle asks with genuine curiosity. "You know, if you'd've just shown up and said 'Bracken has my tape and threatened my dad,' I would've done all of this for you anyway," he says with a sweeping hand gesture that takes in the stacks of paper on his desk.

"Because she's selfish," Alexis interjects with an answer. "Selfish, untrusting, and independent to the point of foolishness in any dimension," she growls, alternating her glare between the women, both of whom refuse to meet her eyes.

"I didn't know you were married," Kate says quietly a few moments later, restarting the discussion after Alexis' outburst. "I didn't even know if you survived," she says, taking a moment to collect herself. "When you were with me, you fought so hard to get back to her, but you weren't confident that she'd take you back after your disappearance. I let myself hope that you made it back safely and that things hadn't worked out." Both Beckett and Alexis grimace at this reminder of that harrowing time of their lives, back when they were unified by the terror for Castle and then struggling to help his return.

"I was elated when I learned that you were fine, then crushed when I found out you were married," Kate continues, speaking directly to Castle. "But then when we met, it turned out you aren't. Suddenly, it seemed like things might work out after all."

"Now just hold it right there," Beckett finally manages to break in, sounding much like she was talking to a perp. "He is very much married, thank you, as I pointed out when we spoke earlier this evening."

"Sounds like an existential riddle to me," Kate fires back in response. "Can a man be married if he has no wife? Is this Schrödinger's marriage?"

"So, I'm not allowed to keep my husband safe?" Beckett asks acerbically. "I have to wear him as a bullet-proof vest to show my affection? I have to jeopardize his life to claim the title of wife?"

"No," Castle interjects, looking angry. "You just need to trust me, love me."

"I do," both women reply before looking crossly at each other, then at Alexis at her snort of derision.

"You both say you love me," Castle says as he stands and starts to pace. "But _you_ ," he says while looking at Beckett, "freeze me out, run headlong into danger not even a year after we promised to be partners in life and crime," he growls, looking at a wilting Beckett.

"And _you_ ," he says while he turns to Kate, still pacing, "you show up and feed me a story about how Alexis wants me to go and Beckett's too busy with her secret case and secret lover to notice my absence."

"Rick, no," Beckett starts to interject before he lifts a hand to stop her denial.

"We're all here and it's all on the table – Bracken, LockSat, the secret case, the other man, the threat to Jim, everything. So," he says determinedly, stopping in place and looking at each person in the room while taking a deep breath, "without dissembling or prevaricating, without worrying about anyone else, _what do you want_?" he asks, turning first to Kate.

"I want us to take my Bracken down together," Kate says slowly, voice growing more certain with each word, "and I want you to stay with me."

Castle nods and turns to Alexis, still sitting on the couch. "I want you to be happy," she says with a shy, tearful smile. "I'm hoping that means you'll stay here."

Before turning to Beckett, Castle walks over to his daughter, helps her stand, and wraps her in a fierce hug. She nods as he whispers something in her ear, giving him a watery chuckle before he releases her and she resumes her seat on the couch.

"Beckett?" he asks, turning to her.

"I want you to stay," she chokes out. The explanation that's been eluding her all day dawns on her, shocking her with its simplicity. "I want to come home." Her plea sounds like it was hidden deep in her heart and barely escaped, and it's punctuated with a slow, single tear.

Castle gives her a long look before nodding again. Beckett, wiping her cheek quickly to hide her vulnerability, grows concerned that she can't read the look on his face.

Castle abruptly turns and walks to his desk. "Before Alexis and Beckett arrived, we were talking about poker," he says. "As I told you, Kate, I learned to read Beckett long ago. I thought something was up when we spoke this morning, so I took the liberty of adjusting your request," he says as he extracts a satchel and some folders from a desk drawer.

"This stack of documents," he says as he takes the first pile and slips it into the folder before placing the folder in the bag, "is everything I've got from what we actually collected. It goes back to when I started working on the case in earnest, before Beckett knew, and it continues to include everything on Bracken through his trial, appeal, and murder." After a short pause, he adds one more explanation. "It also includes everything I've got about my disappearance. We still don't know what happened, but I've always worried that it goes back to Bracken somehow."

 _Oh, Rick,_ Beckett thinks, _why didn't you talk to me about this? I've been wondering the same thing._

"This stack," he continues while transferring the other pile into a folder, "has everything I've found related to LockSat." While Castle doesn't look her way, Beckett's sure that he saw her flinch at the reference to her current investigation. "There isn't much," he says with a pause, "but that's what happens when you work alone."

Beckett manages not to react to his comment, until her composure is ruined by Alexis' huff.

"This last stack," Castle continues, "has been adjusted. I didn't know if you were working for Bracken or if he was compelling you to collect information. So, I used the second set of documents to edit the first. I edited the Bracken documents to make it look like they came from LockSat. There are oblique references to the CIA, unknown bank accounts, things like that. If you had to turn these documents over, the hope is that Bracken would think he was being set up by his partner," he says with a small grin, while the others in the room marvel at the simple audacity of the plan. "Best case scenario, they take each other out, or Bracken struggles enough to make LockSat's identity obvious."

Securing the files in the bag, Castle makes a production out of zipping it closed. He reaches down into the drawer again and pulls out a portable hard-drive. "This has scans of all the actual documents," he says as he zips the drive into a side pocket of the bag. "I'm not sure if the artifact messes with electronics, but it's worth a shot," he says with a casual shrug. With the bag secured, he walks out from behind the desk and over to the couch, where he presents the bag to Kate as she stands.

"So," Kate says sadly, "I guess you're not coming with me?"

Reaching out for her hand, Castle holds it gently. "I need to stay. I have a daughter who needs me, or at least lets me pretend she does," he says with a smirk, looking down at Alexis as she sits on the couch wearing a tearful smile.

"And I have a wife who I love," Castle says quietly. "With whom I've shared years of joy and pain to write our story. We need time to heal, to rebuild." Releasing Kate's hand, Castle turns to see that Beckett's crying more than Alexis, nodding in agreement with his explanation while doing nothing to wipe or hide her tears.

Kate wipes her eyes as she slings the bag's strap over her shoulder. Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out the artifact that led to so much trouble last year and infinitely more today. Despite its history, or maybe because of it, the object draws the eyes of everyone in the room.

"I wish things didn't have to be this way," Kate finally sighs. "You don't deserve him," she says to Beckett. "You don't deserve another chance."

"You're probably right," Beckett concedes while looking at Alexis, then Castle. "But I'm remarkably fortunate to have one anyway," Beckett admits while gazing openly at Castle and hoping that he can see the depth of her sincerity.

"You really think he can open his heart to you yet again?" Kate asks doubtfully.

"My husband," Beckett answers with pride, "is a very forgiving man."

"I hope you're right," Kate replies as she lurches forward and wraps her arms around Castle. The room fills briefly with a burst of light, after which only Beckett and Alexis remain.

* * *

AN2: There will be another chapter, but not for a while. This is a diversion from Running Water, which is still my main story in development. Unfortunately, though, with the turn of the year comes a crushing amount of new work (good for job security, bad for free time). So, there'll be no update to RW for this week at least. My apologies for the delay and for the comments that will be delayed as I'm unable to read new stories or chapters as promptly as I'd like.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. But my thanks to those who created them and let us play.

A/N: Down below.

.

" _You really think he can open his heart to you yet again?" Kate asks doubtfully._

" _My husband," Beckett answers with pride, "is a very forgiving man."_

" _I hope you're right," Kate replies as she lurches forward and wraps her arms around Castle. The room fills briefly with a burst of light, after which only Beckett and Alexis remain._

* * *

The after-image from the burst of light is still fading when Beckett runs to the corner of Castle's office at the Haunt, pulling a sconce to activate the secret door. Darting her head out, her body sags when her eyes confirm that the departure wasn't an illusionists' trick, a way of diverting their attention to make an escape. _It was a stupid thought anyway_ , Beckett thinks. _Castle wasn't going to leave voluntarily, and she couldn't have carried him away_.

Embarrassed by her reaction, Beckett closes the door and turns to return to the desk. She's surprised to see Alexis donning her coat.

"You're leaving?" Beckett asks in surprise.

Rolling her eyes, Alexis forces her arms into the sleeves more forcefully than necessary. "Of course I'm leaving," she says with some derision. "That… _woman_ just stole my father. I need to get him back."

"Of course," Beckett answers quickly. "We need to sit down and figure out a plan."

"No, thanks," Alexis offers coldly, though she makes no move to leave. "I'm not going to let her – you – her steal my father. I'm dropping everything else to focus on this."

"So am I," Beckett declares, though she's not even done talking before Alexis is rolling her eyes again.

"You already have a case," Alexis says as if explaining a simple concept to a confused student. "And you've shown us all where Dad rates in comparison."

"Alexis, that's not fair," Beckett objects, though she recognizes that she's doing so out of form more than content. _From Alexis' perspective, and probably Castle's – hell, from everyone else's perspective – the comment is more than fair,_ Beckett realizes. _Didn't I take a unilateral "time out" from our marriage to pursue the LockSat case?_ "I told you I was trying to change. I'll drop everything else to find Rick."

"You know the worst part, the saddest thing?" Alexis rails at Beckett. "You probably believe yourself right now. Well, not me," Castle's daughter declares. "I know you, _Beckett_ ," Alexis says, using the name as invective. "You only want Dad when you're afraid you can't have him."

Alexis pauses a moment to let that shot sink in before she continues. "You know, I actually think you might put your case down long enough to find him," she says musingly, startling Beckett. "But you don't fool me anymore – as soon as he's back, you'll just toss him aside again and go back to your case and Mr. Singh. So forget it – I'm not going to help you break his heart again."

"You're angry," Beckett says, realizing that there's an added element to Alexis' reaction, "and you're right to feel that way. But don't punish me for what _that woman_ did. I'm still here, Alexis, and I'm going to get Rick back."

"' _That woman'?_ She's you!" Alexis yells in frustration. "Don't you see? In any reality, you do what you want and expect forgiveness, regardless of how much pain you cause. Count me out, Captain, and quit making empty promises before you convince me that Dad's better off where he is."

Beckett's surprised the door doesn't shatter when Alexis punctuates her exit. It's hard to blame the young woman, though Beckett had hoped that working together to bring Castle back would be a way to make amends. Now, her only remaining option is to prove Alexis wrong with deeds rather than words. It's been too long since those two things – words and deeds – matched.

Well, one thing's certain – she has one more reason to find Castle and to do so quickly. It's perfectly clear that if Alexis organizes his rescue, Castle might still be lost to Beckett. But her biggest opponent is herself – that alternate reality version of herself who stole Castle away. Her husband _is_ a forgiving man, and for the first time since she's known him, Beckett truly regrets how forgiving he can be. Because if Kate is anything like Beckett, she'll use her time with Castle to sink whatever hooks she can in an effort to win at least his forgiveness, if not his willing and permanent presence at her side.

* * *

Castle's still rubbing his eyes when he feels Kate release him and dart away. He tries to follow but only makes it a step before he rams his shin into a coffee table. Shaking his head while he grimaces and hops on one foot, he finally clears his vision well enough to realize that he's in Beckett's old apartment, the one that Dunn blew to pieces. It's a stark reminder that he and Kate hadn't met in this reality, and that there were at least some positives to her as a result. _So why in the hell did she drag me back?_

A metallic clang from the direction of her bedroom brings him back to the present. _Her gun safe_ , he identifies the noise. _So, her gun came out or the artifact went in. Probably both._

She's back in front of him moments later, looking abashed. His anger, born of her deceptions at the Haunt and stoked by her decision to tear him away from his life, flares into brilliance at the sight of her. He does nothing to hide his fury.

"So, 'partner' and 'prize' were just false niceties. You went for 'prisoner.'"

"Rick," Kate says quickly, trying to mollify him, "I'm so, so sorry."

"For what?" Castle asks in a deceptively calm tone of voice. "For kidnapping me? For tearing me away from my wife, daughter, and mother? For betraying my trust? Or for the deception behind your visit?"

"For all of it," Kate answers earnestly and wildly, casting about for something that will calm him down. "I just need some help…"

"The magic words," Castle interjects bitterly. "'I need.' God, I'm so tired of what everyone – you especially, in whatever incarnation – _needs_ from me. Well guess what?" he says more volubly as he turns for the door. " _I need_ some time to think about what the hell I'm going to do."

"Rick…," Kate tries to soothe as she reaches for his arm.

Wrenching it out of her grip, Castle keeps moving. "I know my way around. Don't wait up."

It's not until late the next morning, after a sleepless, anxious night, that Kate hears from Castle. At least, she assumes he sent the terse text from the unknown number: **The Royal Quarters, Noon**. She knows the place – an English-style pub, dark and private. She tries to focus on precinct administration, but her eyes keep returning to the bag that holds the files Castle assembled for her. They taunt and tempt her, continually distracting her with a whispered siren's call. Finally cracking, she stands, slings the bag over her shoulder, and decides to walk to the pub in a vain effort to clear her head.

Castle's already at a table in the back when she arrives fifteen minutes early for lunch. Kate appreciates the irony, suddenly finding herself in almost the exact opposite position as yesterday, when she orchestrated a similar meeting with Beckett. This time, though, she's much less certain about the outcome of the meeting.

"Rick," she says breathily as she takes the chair across from him, "thanks for meeting with me."

"Three things," Castle says, his short, clipped words demonstrating that his anger's given way to planning but still lingers just beneath the surface. Kate nods, but he continues as if her acceptance is expected. "First, I want my phone," he says, holding out his hand and making it clear that he's not entertaining further discussion until he has his phone again. Clearly reading that he's not interested in apologies, Kate reaches into her pocketbook and returns the phone that she slipped away from him yesterday to protect against Beckett's interference.

"I'm not sure it'll work here," she offers.

"Second," he says while ignoring her, "you've got two weeks."

"Two weeks?" Kate interrupts. "We can't do anything in two weeks. We need more time than that," Kate says, getting assertive rather than upset.

"Two weeks," Castle says with finality. "I don't need to be here for the whole thing, just to make sure you're on target. After that, I'm gone. If you won't send me back, I'm gone anyway. I've still got friends here," he says with a wave at his new clothes and waggling his new phone at her, "and I know how to disappear." _And I've got resourceful friends and family back at home who might come for me before then._

"And third?" Kate asks in an annoyed tone, clearly tabling the second condition for later debate and her suspicion about how many friends Rick actually has who wouldn't make a big scene about his apparent resurrection.

"No nonsense," Castle answers with a hint of his usual smirk. "I'll give this two weeks of my full attention. Any time I have to spend dealing with _distractions_ is time wasted. I'm married."

"But not happily," Kate challenges.

"Don't start," Castle says clearly. "You're hardly in a place to talk about making me happy."

"But you'll stay with me at my place?" Kate pushes. "We can't have you drawing a lot of attention if this is going to work. Plus, we've got plans to make."

Looking annoyed, Castle acquiesces. "I'll stay with you," he agrees cautiously, "unless and until it's apparent that you're not adhering to the conditions. And on the couch."

"Convinced you're that irresistible, are you?" Kate tries to tease.

 _Talk about role reversal,_ Castle thinks. _I'm supposed to be the one teasing with innuendo._

"Observable history," Castle answers succinctly. "As I said, I'm married."

"Fine," Kate concedes, at least for now. "So, where do we start?"

"Right here," Castle answers, typing an email into his new phone. "I did some research last night," he explains as he types. "Not everything here's happened as it did at home," he offer vaguely before turning his phone to show the message to Beckett.

"'Volkov knows about your granddaughter,'" Kate reads aloud _._ The email, addressed to a general information account at the CIA, contains nothing else but his new cell phone number.

"Is that a coded message?" she asks in confusion. "What does that mean?"

Turning his phone back to him, Castle huffs slightly before sending the email. "It means that I'll shortly be grabbed by a CIA black-bag squad." Looking at his ridiculous smile of anticipation, Kate wonders, for the first time, if bringing Castle here was a good idea.

* * *

Pausing only slightly at the thought that she's looked at this door more often this week than in the past several months, Beckett enters without knocking.

"What are you doing here?" Alexis asks in annoyance as she looks up from the desk.

"I have an appointment," Beckett answers simply, working to keep her tone carefully neutral. "I'm your 2:00."

Scanning the detective agency's calendar, Alexis' demeanor sours when she sees the entry. "N. Thermstrom, I presume?" Rolling her eyes, Alexis doesn't back down. "Scheduling an online appointment doesn't convey a fiduciary responsibility or create a privileged relationship. Happily, as an independent agency, RCI can be discriminating in the clientele we decide to take on. Good day, Ms. Thermstrom."

"I was hoping we could combine our efforts, Alexis," Beckett suggests, trying to reach out to Castle's daughter now that the initial shock of their situation has been replaced by the concrete planning to retrieve Castle from his latest disappearance. "If the only way to do that is to meet you here and show you what I've got, then so be it."

Alexis looks unimpressed.

Beckett considers, then discards, an emotional appeal to Castle's daughter. Pragmatism, instead, is the order of the day when addressing interdimensional abductions. "Can't we put our differences aside? You can make your case for him leaving me once we get him back, but he has to be here before we can worry about that."

"I don't need your help," Alexis answers icily as she rolls up some papers on the desk to keep Beckett from seeing their contents.

"Are you really going to let your stubbornness get in the way of rescuing your father?" Beckett asks pointedly. "You're dismissing me before you've heard anything. How is that going to help bring him back?"

"Fine," Alexis nearly spits out. "Impress me. Let's see if you have anything I haven't already discovered." Her doubtful tone makes it clear that she doesn't think much of this possibility.

Taking a seat across from Alexis, Beckett withdraws a folder from her bag, inwardly pleased that there is at least the possibility of coordinating efforts.

"Our version of the artifact…," Beckett begins.

"Is currently at the University of Maryland, where it's part of the joint UMD-Smithsonian program on Museum Scholarship and Material Culture," Alexis finishes with a roll of her eyes. "Believe it or not, Captain, the use of internet search engines is prevalent outside of the NYPD."

Ignoring her sarcasm, Beckett nods. "You're right, that wasn't difficult to track down. But were you aware that it will be removed from the collection next week?" The stricken look on Alexis' face reveals that this is, indeed, new information.

"Since the artifact was involved in a case, the curators weren't surprised to hear from me," Beckett explains in her continuing effort to build some rapport with Alexis. "They said that it's part of a small consignment intended for distribution to the Artefacts program, a group of historians from museums and universities around the world."

"Where's it going?" Alexis asks with some dismay, casting a look at her stack of papers and worrying that they might no longer be relevant.

"That's the bad news," Beckett confesses. "It's heading to the Norsk Teknisk Museum in Oslo."

"Norway?!" Alexis nearly shouts. "Why would it go to _Norway_?"

"The executive director there is on the editorial advisory board for Artefacts and has published on the history of radiation protection, of all things," Beckett says with a sigh. "He wanted to study the artifact as part of his research."

"I can't pull this off by next week," Alexis admits while looking at her pile of papers again. "I can't even get Hayley back from assignment until next week. Oslo?" she asks again, hoping in vain that the answer would change.

"Oslo," Beckett confirms again. "But you were planning to _visit_ the artifact in Maryland, weren't you?" Beckett says, sounding more like she's making a statement rather than asking question.

The question accentuates the tension in the room. Clearly, Alexis hadn't planned on sharing her research with Beckett, but the game seems to have changed. Beckett manages to keep a straight face when it becomes obvious that the accelerated timeline and Hayley's absence don't leave Alexis with much choice.

"Fine," Alexis relents with a sigh. "This _doesn't_ mean I believe anything you've said and I still fully expect you to walk out again," she says as a preface to sharing. Beckett had expected the lecture, but it still hurts. _Worry about bringing him back_ , she reminds herself, _then worry about how to win him back._

When Beckett nods, Alexis gives her last one doubtful look before extracting one of the papers from her pile. "This is the security layout for the University of Maryland's facility," she explains as she unfolds what turns out to be a full security schematic. "I don't know how to read this yet, I was hoping Hayley could help. But it looks much more sophisticated than I expected for a university."

"That'd be the Smithsonian's influence," Beckett muses idly while looking at the schematic. While she'd like to claim that reviewing the document upside-down was at fault, the truth is that this isn't really an area of strength for her, either.

"I don't suppose they'd let you borrow it, or that you could manufacture some case-related reason for us to get access to the artifact?" Alexis asks hopefully, grasping for an easier way to achieve their goal.

"No," Beckett sighs. "That's one of the reasons I made the call. They shut me down almost immediately. There's still some bad blood about how long it took to get the artifact out of evidence, so while they were polite, it's clear that I'm not getting near the artifact without a court order, for which I've got no justification. A judge would laugh in my face and then 1PP would probably demote or fire me for trying to game the system."

"But stealing the artifact is okay?" Alexis asks dubiously.

"Borrowing," Beckett corrects. "Trust me, I don't want that thing around any more than is absolutely necessary. But," she concedes, "unlike a court order, I can be anonymous about 'temporarily obtaining' the artifact."

Alexis finds herself nodding before she stops suddenly, wary that this might suggest cooperation or agreement. "What about grabbing it while it's in transit? That's got to be easier, right?"

"Ordinarily, yes," Beckett agrees. "And we'll see if we can figure out how they're going to move it. But I'm not hopeful. After everything that happened the last time the artifact was transported, I suspect they'll take great care this time around."

"So, we're back to the schematic," Alexis sighs. "I don't know how to do this, especially with so little time."

"Neither do I," Beckett admits. Thinking about their situation, Beckett faces a harsh reality and nearly laughs at the obvious and ridiculous answer. _Castle would laugh at this turn of fate, or karma. But, if it gets him back, it'll be worth it. Besides, I've already got to fight Alexis and 'Kate' to get him back, what's one more challenge?_ "But, your father and I know someone who specializes in this kind of thing. She's supposedly gone legit, but I suspect she'll be willing to return to her old ways for Castle," she speculates with a sigh.

The intrigued look in Alexis' eyes makes Beckett realize that she might not be struggling with them independently, but instead that her suggestion might have just provided Alexis with an ally in her battle to turn Castle's affections away from his wife.

* * *

AN2: A short chapter this week, I'm afraid. And starting later tonight, we've got a one-week fire drill at the office that'll command all of my attention. It's thanks to the snow that I had any time to write this week. Though people here freak out easily in the snow, as a transplanted Minnesotan I can confirm that this was a legit blizzard. Of course, my friends back in MN will laugh to hear that the snow stopped on Saturday and they still won't reopen the schools until next Monday, nine days later.

I'll update Running Water as soon as possible. I went with this story rather than RW as a belated birthday present to RB.

Finally, the info about the Artefact group, the UMD-Smithsonian collaboration, and even the research interests of the director of the museum in Oslo is all real.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. But my thanks to those who created them and let us play.

A/N: It's been a while, but time to come back to this after the conclusion of Running Water. For anyone who joins this story coming from there, this is a little more somber. And as a reminder for the AU setup, "Beckett" refers to the character we all know, while "Kate" is how her AU twin is referenced. Like the show, Beckett usually thinks of her husband as Castle, while Kate thinks of him as Rick. The names should help keep things straight. But get ready, we start in an odd place.

* * *

Kate tugs on her shackled wrist again. Unsurprisingly, it doesn't yield this time, either. Her wrist is rubbed raw and she's got nothing to show for it – she's still cuffed to the bolt in the middle of the floor.

The basement is no less gloomy than it was when she first awoke, when someone shoved her aside roughly to drag Rick out of the room. That seems like hours ago. Maybe it was. It's difficult to tell time here, and the smashed face of the beautiful watch to which she'd treated herself provides no help, other than displaying the time they were grabbed.

It's all a blur. Last evening was fine – things with Rick were still stilted, but he came back to her apartment and slept on the couch, adamantly refusing her offer of the bed as if worried that she'd jump him in the middle of the night. Silly man – she's more subtle than that. The morning conversation was still a little cool, though he surprised them both by making her coffee. He blushed when he realized what he was doing, mumbled something about the power of habits.

It all went wrong on the way to the precinct. She remembers getting into her cruiser, watching Rick bounce in the seat next to her while praising the cushion. She remembers smiling for him, happy that he seemed to be relaxing around her, then her memory goes dark. The next thing she remembers is being knocked awake while he was dragged out of their gloomy cell, neither of them alert enough to offer resistance. Since then, she's been shackled in the middle of this goddamned dungeon, the bag with the physical copies of the Bracken and Locksat paperwork visible but tauntingly out of reach. Otherwise the room is empty aside from a workbench and the rickety wooden stairs leading to the door.

At least she had some foresight before disaster struck – with Rick staying at her place, she relocated the artifact to a safer location, the portable hard drive with scans of all the documents accompanying it. As long as they can get out of here, they can leave the hard copies of the documents behind.

Cataloging her situation again is a short-term distraction. It's only a handful of seconds before her thoughts return to Rick and what might be happening to him. Only his second day in this reality and he's already in serious trouble. She doesn't know who's captured them, but the fact that they've focused on Rick makes her wonder about that strange email he sent, along with his expectation of being grabbed by a "black-bag squad." She's got to remember that this version of Rick isn't the wastrel who spiraled out of control here, but instead an accomplished author who's also logged years working on police investigations. What she dismissed as hyperbole on his part was probably meant with uncanny precision.

And if he knew what might happen, then his desperation to get home drove him to this dire step. She knows she should feel guilty for creating this situation, and she does. But she also can't deny that his resolve makes her feelings for him that much more acute.

The creaking of a door that must've been used for a horror movie soundtrack catches her attention and has her spinning in place on the grimy floor. Looking up to the doorway at the top of the stairs, she sees the silhouette of a man come into view. With a hand clasping the wadded clothes over Rick's chest, the man drags his unconscious charge down the stairs. It's clear that whatever happened to Rick wasn't pleasant as his feet flop on each step, and Kate casually prepares to at least aid Rick if not subdue their jailer.

Perhaps out of some late-developing concern, the captor lowers Rick to the ground before stepping away, careful to stay outside of Beckett's range. When he looks at her, his words are clipped and economical. "Back away. Cuff him to the bolt." He's not masked, but the shadows in the room manage to obscure his face, accentuating the sense of menace. There's not even an "or else" in his statement, Beckett realizes. This is a man who doesn't need to threaten, whose mere presence is a promise of violence for noncompliance.

Scrambling over to Rick's inert form, Kate gently lifts his wrist, protecting it from the chafing of the cuff. Just to annoy their captor, she closes his cuff around her wrist rather than the bolt in the floor. With a scoffing noise and shaking head, the captor leaves, taking her bag of documents with him.

With aching gentleness, Kate pulls Castle so that his head rests in her lap, running her free hand through his hair. "Oh, Rick," she sighs as she looks at his swelling cheek, split lips, and drying trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. When there's no response, she tugs his shirt up and sighs again when she sees the red marks that will later blossom into vivid bruises. Pushing the shirt down again, she returns to running her hand through his hair, cooing and whispering words of comfort and kindness.

Several long minutes later, Castle starts to return to consciousness. " _Kate_ ," he whispers in a daze while nuzzling into her hand. After a few long moments that they both enjoy, his eyes snap open. "Kate," he says again, this time with intonation that signals his embarrassment at assuming it was his wife providing comfort.

He tries to sit up, until he feels the cuff holding him back. "Not again," he says in a tired voice. "Well," he admits as he carefully maneuvers himself into a sitting position, "at least there's no tiger this time."

"Tiger?" Kate asks, brows raised high.

"Long story," he sighs as he gently probes his torso, testing tender spots. "Let's just say the first time I was cuffed to Beckett wasn't nearly as much fun as I'd hoped."

"Rick," Kate offers gently, staying in place to avoid spooking him, "what happened up there?"

"My dad's not a very trusting guy at the best of times," he answers with a chuff. "Maybe referencing an enemy bent on killing him and then appearing as his dead son wasn't a great strategy for enlisting his assistance," he confesses with a wry look, flinching when the twist of his lips tugs at his injuries.

"He beat you?" Kate asks, appalled.

"He interrogated me," Castle corrects. "It's what he does and he's very, very good at his job. You should've seen what he did when my daughter was kidnapped. Well," he adjusts, "no, you shouldn't have seen that. But, trust me – he knows what he's doing."

"Our present circumstances don't suggest that he believes your story," Kate says while tugging on the cuffs. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad we're back together, but why isn't he still interrogating you?"

"He's got my story, my prints, and a blood sample," Castle says while licking a split lip. "I assume he's checking those now. Let's hope I have the same blood and prints as my alternate universe twin. Then, maybe dad will help us."

"And if not?" Kate asks while remaining outwardly calm, though inside she's pleasantly surprised that he's thinking of their joint welfare.

"Then he'll stop being so gentle with me."

* * *

"Right this way," Beckett says with the same fake smile she's worn since collecting her guest at the airport, motioning to the doorway of RCI's building. _At least she's not wearing some slinky dress this time_ , Beckett thinks again. _It's probably in her small carry-on bag, since goodness knows not much else would fit in there_.

"This is Rick's place?" Serena Kaye asks as she casts an appraising eye over the exterior of the building while running her hands through her hair. "I thought he lived over on Broome."

"We do live on Broome," Beckett says politely while choking back any more antagonistic comments about why Serena knows where Castle lives. Where they live together. Or lived. Will live together again. "He opened a PI office here last year, after the DA kicked him out of the precinct due to some concern about his friendships with some criminals," Beckett explains, unable to fully stop herself from raising a brow that makes it clear she includes Serena in that group. "This was the solution to keeping him busy and us together until he was cleared, but he's kept it going since then."

"Oh," Serena says in what Beckett suspects is feigned surprise as they board the elevator. "I thought I read that you weren't together anymore."

"Tabloid nonsense," Beckett answers tersely, closing the subject. Curse Castle for picking a building with such a slow elevator, she thinks, anxious to get this over with. Of course, they're heading up to meet with Alexis, so things are going to get even less comfortable soon.

As if summoned by thoughts of her, Alexis is outside the elevator when Beckett and Serena finally arrive. Though surprised, Beckett forges ahead, playing the role of gracious host while the trio makes their way to Castle's PI office.

"Serena Kaye, this is Alexis Castle, Rick's daughter. She's a student at Columbia, is one of RCI's most accomplished investigators, and has also spent time at the precinct and coroner's office." Beckett tries to ensure that her tone sounds impressed, both to show Alexis that she's respected and to show Serena that Alexis is going to be a full member of their team. Assuming Serena agrees to help them. And assuming that Alexis is willing to work together.

"Alexis, Serena is an internationally renowned insurance agent gifted in the recovery of stolen assets," Beckett continues the introduction, proud that she didn't choke or mumble "thief."

"I know," Alexis says while dismissing Beckett before turning to Serena. Waving a hand for her guests to take a seat after shaking hands, Alexis walks behind her father's desk and opens a manila file. "Miss Kaye, I looked into your background after Captain Beckett mentioned she knew someone who might be able to help us."

 _Great_ , Beckett thinks while watching Serena – she's clearly recognized the tension between Alexis and 'Captain Beckett' already.

"You've had an interesting career," Alexis says with a smile as she turns several pages in the file. "I bet Dad just loved meeting you."

"We had our moments," Serena answers with a sly smile and a wink, which pulls a smirk out of Alexis. "But please, call me Serena."

 _This is going just about as horribly as expected_ , Beckett thinks. _Time to move things along_.

"We asked you here, Serena," Beckett interjects to break the unspoken connection that seems to be forming between the other women, "in the hopes that you can recover something that was stolen from us."

"Where's Rick?" Serena asks, the sound of another woman using her husband's name so knowingly grating on Beckett. "I thought he'd be here. Shouldn't he be part of this discussion?"

"He's what was stolen," Alexis says in a low voice while looking at Serena with wide, pleading eyes.

" _What?!_ " Serena asks, looking back and forth between Beckett and Alexis as if expecting this to be a joke. When each of them holds her fierce gaze, Serena runs a hand through her hair again, though this time it's out of frustration, not an effort to primp.

"I'm sorry Alexis, Captain Beckett," Serena says in an earnest tone. "I don't do kidnappings. I recover stolen artwork. I wouldn't have the slightest idea how to save Rick. Isn't that a job for the FBI? I'd be happy to assist, but I'd only put him in danger by trying to learn this on the fly."

"We don't need you to recover Dad, we'll take care of that," Alexis says while Beckett nods, happy with Alexis' use of the plural. "We need you secure something that we need to get him back."

Serena's demeanor clears from one of concern to one of anger. "I thought I told you three years ago, _Captain_ , that I don't take things that don't belong to me," she nearly growls. "Is this some little entrapment scheme you're running? Some game to make yourself feel better after walking out on your husband? Well, forget it," she says as she stands and clutches her small bag. "I should've expected this from _you_ ," she says venomously to Beckett before turning to Alexis, "but I expected more of you based on the stories your father told."

" _Please_ ," Alexis begs. "It's not like that. Please just let us explain?"

Serena wavers, trying to decide if she should storm out or let them plead their case. Clearly, she'd already be gone if it was Beckett making the request.

Slowly, and probably against her better judgment, Serena lowers herself back into her seat. "Next flight back's not until this evening," she allows. "Though I could spend that time getting drunk at the airport. Convince me this is a better use of my time."

"This isn't going to make much sense," Beckett starts after getting a nod from Alexis, "and you'll probably want a drink before we're through," Beckett says while pointing to the shelf with a few bottles behind Castle's desk. "But some context will help."

"Fine," Serena says, still not relaxing in her seat, but willing to hear at least the beginning of the explanation.

"I was recovering from a gunshot wound to the chest when we first met you," Beckett says, eyes going hazy in recollection. "Castle and I were still trying to figure out how to find our way to each other, and it wasn't easy. Not until I nearly died again, tossed off a building during Alexis' graduation ceremony," she says while casting Castle's daughter an apologetic look, "did we just let go of our baggage and embrace each other. It _still_ wasn't easy," she continues with a grim laugh. "In the next year, he was framed for murder, I got a job in DC, he proposed, he almost died from a toxic poison. I came back from DC and things settled down – relatively – for almost a few months until it was my turn to be framed for murder."

"You two lead an interesting life," Serena mutters, still not fully engaged in this story.

"That investigation led to the arrest and prosecution of my mother's killer," Beckett continues before Serena interjects.

"Senator Bracken. I read about that," Serena admits. "I'm sorry about your mother."

"Thank you," Beckett answers quietly, taking a moment before continuing. "It felt like a sign, like everything was finally going our way. Bracken was gone, and despite a little excitement in the final planning stages," Beckett says while Alexis lets out a huff of air and an eye roll, "we were ready to be married. Until Castle was run off the road on the way to the wedding. He disappeared," Beckett says, hating herself for choking up a little. "Alexis and I spent two months searching for him," she says, her effort to reconnect with Alexis based on this terrible shared history defeated by Alexis' impassive stare.

"We never found him. The Coast Guard found him in a rowboat off the coast, nearly dead from exposure and suffering from a gunshot wound. He can't recall what happened to him in that time," Beckett says in a dull tone, taking no satisfaction from Serena's look of shocked attention. "We've put together a few of the pieces, but most of it's still a mystery."

"He can't remember anything?" Serena asks, surprised by this turn of the story.

"Only bits and pieces that bubble up during terrible nightmares," Beckett confesses, noticing Alexis' look of concern. "It was difficult for him – the nightmares were tearing him apart but he wanted the answers that only seemed to be possible there. He was racked with guilt for missing our wedding, for leaving his family," Beckett says in a low tone, not looking when she hears Alexis sniffle.

"Castle shows his love by taking care of people," Beckett says in a quiet voice. She doesn't want to share this with Serena, but it's an important piece to understand what happened next. And, finally, something she said seems to resonate with Alexis, who now wears a shy, proud smile. "It was killing him to think that he'd brought us pain instead of his usual loving support. When the nightmares were worst, he wondered if I wouldn't have been better off had we never met. That's what we were talking about when all hell broke loose on a case involving a stolen artifact," Beckett says, looking up at Serena, who now is completely focused at the mention of something within her field of expertise.

"Castle and I got separated by gunfire. It took a long while to subdue the suspects and even longer to find Castle. When I did," Beckett says in a tone that clearly reveals her skepticism about this development, "he told me that the artifact had transported him to a different reality, one in which we'd never met."

"Time for me to go," Serena says while standing up again. "This is too stupid to be an attempt at entrapment. I've got better things to do."

"Please," Alexis replies, "we're almost there."

With a heaving sigh and hands that massage her temples, Serena makes a get-on-with-it gesture, but signals her displeasure by remaining on her feet.

"My reaction was the same as yours," Beckett admits, still feeling both foolish and awestruck by what followed. "I figured Castle bumped his head during the firefight and had a nice dream. I didn't really care, since whatever happened convinced him that we were wasting time. We were wed later that day," she says with a wistful sigh.

Finally reaching into her bag, Beckett withdraws her laptop. "That's where things stood until a few days ago," she says while glossing over the recent unpleasantness marring their marital happiness. Tapping a button, Beckett causes her laptop screen to display an image of the entry to a restaurant and spins it to face Serena.

"Watch," Beckett needlessly instructs Serena, who's already watching the screen with rapt attention.

"There you are," Serena says as she sees a familiar image on the screen. "So what?"

"Keep watching," Beckett says, noticing that Alexis is watching attentively, too.

"You changed clothes," Serena says a few minutes later.

Spinning the laptop to reset the video timer, Beckett advances the show before pointing the laptop back at Serena.

"That's not me," Beckett says in an effort to explain. "While Castle was _away_ , he befriended the version of myself he met there. While he eventually made it back to us, he left a lasting impression with those he visited. _She_ ," Beckett says while pointing to the screen that shows Kate departing the restaurant _,_ "came to find him."

"Really," Serena answers in a flat voice, clearly not buying this story. "What did she want?"

"Several things," Beckett answers. "She wanted the evidence that we used to convict Bracken, who's escaped justice in her world. She wanted whatever evidence we have on Bracken's partner, who I've been trying to identify and stop to end his threat to my family," she continues, hearing a gasp from Alexis. "And she wanted Castle – our version of Castle – to go back with her."

"And he went?" Serena asks in confusion. "If he chose to leave," Serena says in a tone that makes Beckett think she might be talking about their relationship, not their dimension, "then I'm not going to be a part of your efforts to lure him back."

"She stole him," Alexis finally interjects from her place at the desk. "Look," she says, pointing back to the laptop, where this reality's Beckett is shown leaving the restaurant, still wiping tears from her cheeks and looking more distraught than she'd ever be expected to show in public. "She was tricky – she tried to convince my father that everyone would be happier if he left and went back with her."

"I didn't spend as much time with your father as I would've liked," Serena answers Alexis in another soft tone that puts Beckett on edge, "but in that time he made his devotion to you perfectly clear. I can't believe he'd ever leave you," she says to Alexis, while cutting a look at Beckett.

"That's how we knew he was kidnapped when he went missing for those two months," Alexis answers. "But for this? The version of me in that other place is a mess, and dad died there. She needs him more than I do. At least, that's what Kate said."

 _Great_ , Beckett thinks. _She's still Kate but I get to be 'Captain Beckett.'_

"And you?" Serena turns to Beckett. "What did this – _visitor_ – say to your husband so that you'd send him away?"

 _Here we are_ , Beckett admits to herself. Admitting to her failures and poor decisions to an unsympathetic audience as she can imagine. Unable to face their accusing stares, she answers while looking at the hands clasped in her lap.

"She said that he deserved better, deserved someone who would love him openly. Someone who wouldn't focus on work to the exclusion of her marriage. She also lied," Beckett says with quiet rancor, "tried to make him think I was having an affair."

"She's a liar," Alexis interjects, and Serena looks confused about who she's talking about – Kate or Beckett. "The visitor – she lied. She was here for the two things Captain Beckett mentioned – the evidence and my father. But Dad figured her out," she says proudly. "He knew she was trying to manipulate him. So he gave her the evidence and told her he was staying here with us."

"So, where is he?" Serena asks again.

"She took the evidence," Alexis continues, "and pulled out the version of the artifact she brought from her reality. Then, as she was saying goodbye, she grabbed Dad. There was a flash of a bright light, then they were gone."

"She took him?" Serena says, surprised despite the build up to this story. Looking back and forth between Alexis and Beckett to see if this is some joke and seeing nothing but forlorn visages of loss.

"So, you want the artifact, the one that's here," Serena surmises when no one speaks. "You want to go and get him back? Assuming that's even possible," she says while she watches Alexis roll out security plans on the desk, "how do you know that the other version of Captain Beckett won't just grab him again?"

"We don't," Beckett answers. "We can only make plans to retrieve him. I trust my husband to resolve things on his end."

* * *

"You're gonna have one hell of a shiner," Kate says as she looks at Castle's swollen cheek. "Why'd he hit your face? If he was worried about who you might turn out to be, I'd have thought he'd go easy on leaving visible evidence."

"That was probably his plan," Castle admits with a sheepish grin, "but he didn't care much for my humor. Don't worry," he soothes when Kate looks upset on his behalf, "if you knew me better, you'd understand that most people would like to give me a whack now and then. He's just someone who actually did it."

"Rick, that's not right," Kate answers, looking even more upset. "You don't have to joke about this. You've got to be hurt and angry and scared. And it's all my fault," she confesses. "I'm so sorry…," she begins to apologize again, until the creaking of the door commands their attention again. Before he can say a word, Kate pushes Castle behind her, which is a bit awkward with the way they're cuffed, and stands ready to defend him from another interrogation.

The pinging of metal catches their attention as the keys land nearby on the floor and slide within reach. "Dinner's on. Come upstairs and we'll talk," says a voice Castle recognizes. The shadow in the doorway retreats, leaving the door at the top of the stairs open.

"Yeah," Castle confirms as Kate reaches for the keys, "that was dad. He's not a big talker," he says with a huff as Kate unlocks his wrist. As he stands and stretches, she removes both sets of cuffs from her wrist before scanning the room for anything that might serve as a weapon. She gives up quickly when it becomes apparent that the basement is kept for this purpose, but she does find an old newspaper on the workbench. Taking a few sheets, she wraps the cuffs carefully so that she can try to run prints once they get out of here.

"Worth a shot," Castle shrugs as he watches her, his voice clearly showing his doubts. He's about to trudge upstairs when Kate's hand wraps around his bicep from behind and holds him in place.

"Wait," she says quietly. "You're going to face someone who had you at a disadvantage. You need to look as unruffled as possible," she says as she runs her hands over his shoulders to smooth his shirt, which Castle re-tucks into his pants. The both dust themselves off and rub out the creases in their pants, before looking at each other in preparation. Kate gives Castle a shy smile as she steps close and cards a hand through his hair, fussing a bit in an effort to tame it. Once she's done what she can, her hand drifts again to his swollen cheek, which she cups gently.

"I'm so sorry, Rick," she says again, withdrawing her hand before it makes him uncomfortable. But that doesn't stop her from dropping a quick kiss on the cheek, turning and grabbing his hand before he can react. "Now, come on," she says as she tugs him toward the stairs, "I want to meet your father."

They've separated again by the time they reach the top of the stairs. Moving warily, they follow the smell of something delicious, hunger and curiosity driving them toward the kitchen. They could run, and had discussed it in whispered tones on the stairs, but they don't know where they are and Castle's dad is clearly prepared, so it's unlikely they'd get anywhere. So, instead, they forge ahead.

Rounding a corner, they're shocked to see a dining room with a full meal laid out, looking like it was cooked here. Though ravenous, they're both too careful to simply dive in and instead raise their focus to the man sitting at the head of the long table. He's an attractive man, a silver fox as they'd describe in pop culture terms. Dressed down in jeans and a black pullover, he looks comfortable, as if he might really be sitting at home in his dining room after an average day. But instead of food in front of him, his end of the table is covered in the documents Castle had collected for Kate.

"Please, have a seat," he says while waving an arm to the other end of the table. "I don't get to cook often, but it's one of the perks of using this house."

"Thanks, dad," Castle says wryly as he steps forward and holds a chair out for Kate, seating her politely before he takes a seat beside her. "I take it you've already eaten?"

"Can't eat," he replies, waving a document in his hand. "Too excited. I've got to say, Richard, while I enjoyed your earlier books, this is the best thing I've ever read."

"Wait a minute," Kate interjects, head swiveling from father to son and back again. "You two are going to just sit here and ignore the fact that you beat the hell out of your son?"

"Ice's in the freezer," Castle's dad says while using his thumb to motion over his shoulder to the kitchen behind him, "and band-aids are in the medicine cabinet," he finishes with a tilt of his head and an eye roll. "There. Now can we talk?"

"No!" Beckett replies in disgust. "You hit your own son, who reached out to you for help. And you're not even going to apologize?"

"I hit a man _claiming_ to be my dead son, the son I never got to meet before he got his ass shot trying to protect _you_ ," the older man replies with some heat. "This _impersonator_ sends me a threatening email, then tells me a ridiculous story about how he came to be here and what he needs. You should be happy," he rails at her, "that I ignored my training on this one. Our talk might not've been gentle, but it'll leave fewer scars than a double-tap to the base of his skull."

Kate throws her napkin on the table and looks ready to push herself up when Castle's hand lands on her forearm. "It's okay," he says in a calm voice. "Thank you."

"You've got a lot of nerve," Kate says quietly but fiercely as she puts her napkin back in her lap and scoots back to the table.

" _I've_ got a lot of nerve?" Castle's dad laughs in response. "My son died to protect you, and this version of him hasn't fared too well so far in his effort to help you."

"I told my dad, Jackson," Castle cuts in quickly to stop this conversation from growing heated again, "that I'm only here for two weeks, to help you out after you worked so hard to get me home after my accidental visit last year," he explains his cover story with an intense look that begs her to play along. "And dad," he says while shifting his attention to his father, "Kate isn't to blame for what happened last year or the decisions I make now. So back off."

To Kate's surprise, this direct challenge seems to lighten the mood, prompting a rich chuckle from Jackson. "Son, I don't know what happened to you where you come from, but I like this fire in you. You've got spirit! Now eat. We've got a lot of work to do," he says while looking at the array of paperwork in front of him.

"So you'll help us?" Kate asks when it's apparent that Castle can't speak through the massive forkful of pasta he just nearly inhaled. "You'll help us arrest Bracken?"

"Arrest Bracken?" Jackson asks with a grim smile. "Why the hell would I do that? No, my wife's been after the man you know as Locksat for a long while," he explains while Castle chokes on his meal. "With this paperwork and the information I can wring out of Bracken, we're going hunting."

* * *

AN2: One of the coolest things about writing fanfic is the comments that come from all over. The last chapter mentioned a museum in Oslo, and someone commented from near there! I get such a kick out of the thought that people all over the world are watching this show and writing about it.

Future updates to this story should arrive with greater frequency than the first offerings now that this is my main effort. I'm writing the story I mentioned at the end of Running Water at the same time, but I want to have the first several chapters written and reviewed before I start posting that. More soon!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. But my thanks to those who created them and let us play.

A/N: A reminder for the AU setup: "Beckett" refers to the character we all know, while "Kate" is how her AU twin is referenced. Like the show, Beckett usually thinks of her husband as Castle, while Kate thinks of him as Rick. An odd note on where this is going follows this chapter.

* * *

" _There_ you are," Vikram says after Beckett's taken her third step into the precinct, so happy to see her that he misses her flinch. Given everything she's heard about him lately, and her own thoughts, it stresses Beckett's acting ability to act normally.

"I've been busy," she replies as she doesn't break stride on the way to the elevator, deciding that her position as captain provides all the cover she needs. "Surprisingly enough, it turns out that running a police precinct takes a fair amount of time."

"Well, duh," Vikram says playfully, nudging her elbow as he steps next to her to await the elevator.

 _That's new_ , Beckett thinks of the physical contact, _and it'd damn well better not happen again_.

"Is there something you needed?" she asks coldly, stepping to the side to increase the space between them.

Looking confused at her movement, Vikram knits his brows. "We need to talk about the case," he says. Then, his expression clears as he comes up with an explanation for her behavior. "Oh, I get it, _not here_ ," he says with a wink. _Dear Lord_. "Later, then, away from here?"

"Perhaps," Beckett says as she steps into the elevator car. "I'll contact you. We shouldn't be seen together," she says as she holds out a palm to prevent his effort to follow.

Shaking her head to dislodge his look of anticipation, Beckett tries to refocus during the ride up to Homicide. By the time the doors open, she's in command, striding out with purpose. She walks by her office and into the bullpen, where Ryan and Esposito quickly try to hide their game of paper football.

"We need to talk about the Livingston case," she says with only a slight pause in her steps. Two sets of eyebrows shoot up, before the detectives scramble out of their chairs to follow their boss, who's on the move again.

A few minutes later, they're entering Tory Ellis' workspace, the boys still confused but keenly interested to see what's going on. There is no Livingston case, of course, but the use of a cover name tells them this is something off the books, maybe even something personal to Beckett. And Beckett just doesn't volunteer personal information, so something very interesting is going on.

"Tory, will you do me a favor?" Beckett asks of the tech, who nods eagerly, happy to do something for the captain and for being addressed so politely. "Please set this up to play," she says as she hands a USB drive to Tory, "but don't start it yet. Then, can I prevail upon you to borrow your workspace for 15 minutes?"

"Of course," Tory says professionally, already connecting the drive. It's only the work of couple minutes to prepare the file, after which Tory excuses herself, noting that she'll be in the Homicide break room if they need anything.

Beckett takes a seat and encourages the boys to do so as well. They're still in the process of sitting down when she starts talking. "When I was with the AG's office, I ran a search for documents relating to my mother's case. Just before I started as captain, a document entered the AG system and was flagged by my request. The document went to my old team, and within days all of them were dead, killed by the man who was working with Bracken."

Esposito and Ryan, rather than looking curious, now look completely stunned. They sit wide-eyed and silent, both from shock and out of fear that asking questions might stop Beckett from voluntarily explaining what's been going on since her promotion.

"Vikram was new to the AG's office. I know you wondered why I brought him in, why I give him personal attention. We're trying to find the man behind the slaughter, who we know only as Locksat," Beckett explains in a monotone voice, desperate to keep moving and provide a concise summary. "He's proven himself so deadly that I've tried to ensure that no one else knows what we're doing, so that if he comes for me, he doesn't take anyone else."

" _That's_ why you left Castle," Ryan interjects, finally having an explanation for why his friend was hurt. "So, he doesn't know?"

"I didn't think so," Beckett shakes her head, "but as we all learned and I was a fool to ignore, Rick's an irritatingly effective investigator," she says with a proud smile. "He was kidnapped and tortured in the initial assault, right after I was supposed to start as captain. Since then, he's put together far more of the story than I thought."

"So," Ryan says with some bite, "you left him to keep him safe but he's working on the case anyway?"

"Back off, bro," Esposito says gruffly to his partner. "This is Beckett's _job_. It's just Castle's _hobby_."

"No, Espo, you're wrong," Beckett says quickly and severely. "On both counts. It wasn't my job, as someone tried to tell me. And as for Castle, I know you've never respected him for it, but he is a capable investigator, whether with us or as a PI."

Looking like he swallowed something sour, Esposito holds his tongue, though it looks like it pains him to do so.

"What happened?" Ryan asks, temporarily knocking Beckett off her stride.

"What do you mean?" she asks, noticing that Espo still looks angry.

"Something must've happened," Ryan explains, "because you're suddenly confiding in us. And because you brought us here, so you're worried about surveillance. And because you have something to show us."

"She's worried about Vikram," Esposito growls, since he's the only unknown.

"I've spent a lot of time with him, as you've noticed," Beckett grimaces. "I've realized that the combination of the stressful situation, the attention from me, and my temporary break with Castle might've sent him the wrong message. He's getting clingy," she admits, "which puts me in a tough spot."

"You can't be serious," Ryan moans. "With _Vikram_?"

"Not _that_ kind of problem," Becket retorts with a look of distaste. "I did everything this way to protect Castle, so that I'd have something to go back to when it was finished. I would _never_ do that to him."

"But Vikram's going to push until you have to put him down, and then everything's at risk," Esposito follows. "His only connection to the NYPD is you, and everything else is gone after what happened with the AG team. So, if he can't have you, he might start to question his allegiance."

"Exactly," Beckett agrees unhappily. "Best case, he runs. Worst case, he sells out. Which is where you come in."

"Surveillance or something a little more confrontational?" Ryan asks, clearly offended by the notion of an outsider interfering with 'the Castles.'

"Surveillance," Beckett confirms with certainty. "The routine's about to change, so we need to get you watching before I go."

"Go where?" Esposito asks, his experience with Beckett's past unilateral decisions making him wary.

"I'm taking an emergency leave," she answers, girding for the argument to follow. "I need to rescue Castle."

"Oh, he ' _disappeared_ ' again, did he?" Esposito replies sarcastically. "Is this another disappearance where he walks away on his own, does a little sightseeing, then wanders back?"

"Espo?" Beckett asks, waiting until he stops talking and looks at her. "Fuck off."

He's so shocked that he simply gapes at her for a moment before growing angry. "You can't talk to me that way, _Captain_ ," he growls in response.

"So file a complaint on your way out," she replies, dismissing him. When he remains seated, she pins him with a look. "First: Castle's first disappearance was genuine and you damn well know it. You were an ass to him then and never apologized when his memories helped solve a case. Even if you thought he'd leave me at the altar," she says quietly, reliving some of that pain, "you ignored years of evidence that he'd _never_ abandon his daughter." Esposito looks ready to interject when Beckett cuts him off. " _Second_ , it's looking like Locksat might've had something to do with Castle's first disappearance." This steals some of the wind from Esposito's sails. "The timing works – I'd just hurt Locksat's partner and sent him away – why wouldn't he do the same thing to me?" she asks sadly.

Ryan clears his throat, anxious to get into the conversation, but Beckett needs to finish this while she can. "Third," she says quietly, "Alexis and I were _there_ when Castle was taken. I know who has him and where he is. So, I need to go get him."

" _We_ need to go get him," Ryan corrects. "Why are we sitting here? If you know where he is, why aren't we already on the way?"

"Watch," Beckett answers. "I'll show you who took Castle." Typing in a time corresponding to the end of her dinner with Kate, Beckett starts the replay from the Carbone's foyer. "My plan backfired," she admits as the video begins to play. "I'd hoped to keep him safe but our split actually alienated me from his family and put him at greater risk. Someone exploited that situation beautifully."

"That's you," Ryan says as he sees Kate leave the restaurant, but Beckett remains silent.

"No," she says a few moments later. "That's me," she says, marveling again at her lack composure on the video.

"What the hell?" Esposito asks while leaning forward, struggling to figure out what he's just seen.

"Don't worry about Castle," Beckett tells them. "I know where he is and I've got plans in motion. Just watch Vikram, so things are safe when we get back," she asks as she pulls her drive from Tory's computer and leaves to file her emergency leave paperwork.

"Back from _where_?" asks a befuddled Ryan as he watches her walk away.

* * *

"Oh, Thank God!" Kate says as she seizes Castle by the lapels of his coat and drags him bodily into her apartment. He's still looking flummoxed when Kate wraps him in a fierce, desperate hug. Hands twitching at his side, he's not quite sure what to do.

"Ah, Kate?" he asks, wondering what's prompted such an emotional reception.

"Sorry!" she says as she releases him and quickly steps back. "Sorry. I'm not trying to… you know," she says sheepishly. "I've just been so worried."

"It's only been a day," Castle says with a laugh. "Even I usually take a little more time than that to get into trouble," he tries to joke, though Kate's flat stare reminds him that even she knows that's wrong, one day is more than enough time.

"I'm sorry," he pivots, shutting the door behind him and stepping further into the apartment, "I was fine with my dad last night – we didn't even go out, just did some planning and some talking. I got kind of caught up in it – dad's a bit more approachable here," he says, then huffs at Beckett's incredulous look, knowing that she's focusing on the deep black eye he's sporting courtesy of his father's initial interrogation. "But I should've called you – I'm sorry."

"Rick," Kate says earnestly, "please don't apologize to me. We both know you wouldn't be here if I hadn't acted horribly, so I deserve whatever you dish out." Castle's looking at her curiously, slowly shaking his head, but it's lost on Kate as she looks down and shelters behind the sheet of her hair.

"Are you hungry?" she asks after a few moments of quiet. "Thirsty?"

"I'm fine," he says kindly, but he's thinking. "Though if you're like the Beckett I know and you really were worried, then you probably haven't eaten, have you?" he asks, bending low and craning his neck to try to move into her line of sight. "Actually, I'm famished," he reverses. "Family reunions and scheming about elected officials takes a lot of sustenance. But I'll only eat if you'll join me," he says with a leading voice, swinging around to Kate's side and offering an elbow as if he was seating her at a fine restaurant, not escorting her to the kitchen.

All Kate can do is offer an embarrassed huff, take his arm, and let herself be led to the kitchen. She's embarrassed again, and he looks a little ashamed, when opening the refrigerator reveals the meal that Kate cooked earlier. Castle's certain that she didn't eat a bite, instead waiting for his arrival.

"This looks incredible," he says by way of apology. She recognizes that his words are another attempt to say he's sorry despite her admonition, so she replies in kind. "It was nothing – the least I could do," she says quietly. He nods, accepting the subtext, and helps her set up and reheat dinner.

The meal is quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Kate's relieved that Castle's safe, having spent a horrible night imagining the trouble he could've gotten into by staying with a father who might see him more of a tool to achieve a personal goal than as a lost son. It was thinking about that situation that finally drove home how terrible her impulsive decision to grab him had been. And so the rest of the night had been willingly given to figuring out how to correct her mistake and apologize.

Castle, meanwhile, ruminates on fate and exactly what he's done, and to whom, that warranted such a crazed twisting of his life. Originally defensive, he's starting to embrace the experience, especially the chance to connect with a father who in this reality can talk for more than a few minutes without shooting something or someone (even if he does have a mean backhand). Even so, it makes him laugh, in an uncomfortable way, to realize that he's far more similar to his father than he thought. Each of them married a lethal woman obsessed with solving a case – the same case, even! So he recognizes only too well Jackson's interest in ending the case, doing everything he can to recapture the full attention of his wife.

As dinner winds down, Kate surprises Castle by standing, coming around the table, and reaching out for his hand. She waits, not taking his hand, but silently asking him to accompany her as he did to start their meal. He's a little wary about where she intends to lead him, but he extends a little faith, figuring that as fearsome as she might be, he could walk away if he's uncomfortable.

Still, he's relieved when she leads him back to the couch rather than towards her bedroom. "Wait here?" she asks, before leaving again at his nod. She returns moments later with an ice pack and a decorated wooden box. Rather than sit next to him on the couch, she perches on the coffee table so that she sits facing him with their knees almost touching.

"Here," she says while gently lifting the ice pack towards his eye.

"It's fine," Castle demurs. "Ice won't help now."

"Humor me?" Kate entreats, still horrified about his injury.

Castle accedes, taking the pack and pressing it against his cheek. His slight sigh and relaxing facial muscles belie his words, making Kate glad she pushed the issue. But that was the easy one.

Reaching for the box, she holds it on her lap. As expected, Castle's innate curiosity prevents him from looking away. She enflames his imagination by letting him stare at the box for several long moments before she explains.

"Rick," she says, waiting for his attention to lift from the box to her eyes, "I made a terrible mistake when I visited you. I handled the whole thing poorly – I let my hopes and fears override everything else when I should've just trusted you. My behavior was inexcusably selfish," she says before pausing and looking down at the box herself.

When she restarts, she surprised to see that he's looking directly at her, not the distraction in her lap. "But the worst? The worst thing I did was surrender to the impulse to grab you. I never should have pulled you here. I stole you away from your family and put you in terrible danger. 'I'm sorry' sounds so inadequate, but it's all I can offer," she says, taking a moment to look into his eyes. "Except for this," she finishes as she opens the box.

"The artifact?" Castle asks, surprised that it's here with them.

"You should go home, Rick," Kate says quietly, steeling her voice. "There's nothing for you here – family who think you're dead, friends who don't recognize you, and danger everywhere. You're not safe," she says with a small pause, "and I don't know how to protect you," she admits with deep shame, thinking about shadowy CIA agents and rogue presidential candidates. "You can take yourself home – that way you'll have the artifact and you won't have to worry about me endangering you again."

Castle sits quietly for a few moments, eyes alternating between the artifact and Kate's open expression. "What about your mom's case? What about your dad?"

"Your dad seems intent on taking care of Bracken," Kate answers slowly. "It was his eagerness that really made me realize how terrible I've been. He's using you, Rick, no less than I tried to. And it's putting you in danger. How can I live with myself if mom's case ends with you dead? I've already seen you die once, Rick, and I barely knew you. I can't see it again now that I...," she trails off, fearful of overstepping.

"Hey," Castle replies in a teasing tone, "look – still here," he says while rapping a fist against his temple. "You don't have any reason to believe this, but my dad's perfectly capable of keeping me safe. He cleared out a mansion full of Russian mafia, so I don't think a politician will give him much trouble."

"Stop it," Kate begs him, "we both know it's much more than that. And if he's as capable as you say, he doesn't need your help. He has the documents, knows to use Bracken to get to Locksat. You don't have to be here for that. You _shouldn't_ be here for that."

"If not my dad, what about yours?" Castle returns to his earlier question.

"My dad…," Kate trails off, looking bereft. "The sad truth that I finally faced last night is that my dad is who he is – an alcoholic. I can't fix him. Bracken's men are just a distraction – once they're gone, there's no guarantee that I get my dad back," she says at his heartbroken look. "In fact, it's much more likely that I'll never get him back. He's been this way for years, Rick. Even if he stops drinking tomorrow…," she stops, her tears articulating the likely health consequences of her father's long addiction.

Castle gently reaches over, taking the box from her lap. Rather than extract the artifact, though, he sets the box on the coffee table and stands, extending a hand. "I'm sorry, Kate," he says in a tone of genuine concern. "So sorry you're alone, and sorry that I can't be who you want me to be. But," he adds as he helps her stand, releases her hand, and opens his arms, "I can still be a friend."

Surprised by his offer, Beckett hesitates a moment before stepping into him. She reminds herself that she owes it to him to keep this platonic, to accept a comforting hug without nuzzling or pushing for more. It's a good reminder, because her mind goes blissfully blank as his arms enfold her, surrounding her in a gentle, compassionate embrace. It's been _so long_ since she's felt support from someone that she almost weeps with its unexpected return.

"You don't know me very well," Castle rumbles into her ear a few minutes later, "so this might come as a surprise, but I usually punctuate rare moments of solace with exasperating comments," he explains, feeling her shake out a laugh. "So, as comfortable as this feels, I need to turn down your generous offer."

"Hold on," Kate says, pulling out of the hug and looking at him crossly. "Go easy on the ego there – I was behaving myself and didn't _offer_ you anything!"

"I was talking about the artifact," he says with a raised brow and suppressed smile while pointing at the wooden box.

"Oh," Kate replies, blossoming red. "Wait a minute, what do you mean? It wasn't an offer – you need to go home!"

"And I will," Castle replies with frustrating evenness. "But I said I'd spend two weeks here. There are things I still need to do."

"Rick," Kate moans, "didn't you listen to anything I said?"

"See?" he laughs while giving her an impish wink. " _Now_ you're getting to know me. Frustrating, right?"

" _Right_ ," Kate confirms with a nod while failing to contain an exasperated smile. "So, since you apparently weren't listening, let me repeat," she starts before Castle interrupts.

"I heard you, Kate," he clarifies, "but I can't leave yet. I need to make sure that dad has what he needs to take care of Bracken for you. I need Locksat's name for Beckett. And I need to see Alexis."

She should've expected this, she realizes. She saw the bond between Rick and his daughter in his reality, so she really shouldn't be surprised by his need to help this reality's version of Alexis. But how in the world will he manage to pull that off? Especially without traumatizing the girl who'd been so devastated by his death?

"Let me help," she hears herself saying. Castle looks momentarily shocked before a thankful smile graces his face. "I've checked on her over the past year," Kate confesses, "so she won't be surprised to hear from me. If you really want to go through with this, I should invite her somewhere quiet, prepare her before you see her. It's been hard for her, Rick," she says quietly, feeling pain herself as she watches Castle's face crumble. "Just when she thought she'd gotten her father back, he dies defending some heartless cop."

"She didn't call you that, did she?" Castle groans.

"She was grieving," Kate allows, "I didn't take it personally. I know loss, especially the loss of a parent. When she was done raging, we spent some time together. I tried to help her, at least until I got distracted with my own problems," she confesses.

Castle steps forward and gives Kate another quick hug. " _Thank you_ ," he says thickly, stepping away quickly. "Thank you for helping my girl." After taking a moment to compose himself, he presses for details. "Is she back in LA?"

"I doubt it," Kate replies. "She spends most of her time here – never really left after you died. I think she feels closer to you here."

"And…," he prompts, giving her an odd look. When she remains quiet, Castle rolls his eyes. "Come on, Kate, you can't fool me. I know your tells – poker, remember? What don't you want to tell me for fear of hurting my feelings?"

Blowing out a frustrated breath that puffs her hair away from her face, Kate gives up. "Fine. Meredith didn't attend your funeral. Alexis still hasn't forgiven her for it. The thought of going back to LA with her so nearby lost much of its appeal."

Castle nods for a bit, obviously trying to figure out how he feels about his first wife skipping out on his funeral. The thought seems to tickle him in some way, based on the grin he wears, but Kate lets him ruminate. Finally, his eyes return to her and his eyebrow quirks. "Let's make a deal," he proposes.

"Deal?" Beckett parrots, wondering what he's up to.

"You help me connect with Alexis and promise that you won't kidnap me again under _any_ circumstances," he says with a pointed look, "and all's forgiven for pulling me here. Deal?" he asks with hand outstretched.

He's up to something, she can tell, but she's not sure what he has in mind. And if he's determined to stay here for a few more days, she'd like those to be on good terms. "Deal," she agrees, looking curiously at his hand. "Seriously? We have to shake on it?"

"What's the matter?" he says with a private smile. "Where I come from, Beckett loves shaking hands."

* * *

Beckett's dismayed to see that Alexis and Serena are already poring over plans when she arrives at RCI 45 minutes early for their meeting. She'd ensured an early arrival to disrupt exactly this kind of dynamic from forming, but it seems that they've still managed to start without her.

Still, she's glad that they are meeting here at Castle's office. Alexis had suggested the loft, but Beckett rejected that notion immediately. As much as she'd like to be back there, she's denying herself the comfort until she can return with her husband. Plus, she never wants to see Serena in the home she hopes to share again with Castle.

"Hello, Captain," Serena says calmly, and try as she might, Beckett can't read any particular motivation or emotion in the greeting. Alexis' clipped "hi" is much less difficult to decipher.

"Hello," Beckett offers generally, nodding to each. "I've got the name of the security company and the shift schedule," she says by way of a peace offering, hoping to get them focused.

"Great," Serena offers in reply, while Alexis continues to stare at a floorplan with her brows knit. Finally looking up, she blows out a breath and turns to Serena. "So, how should we organize this?"

"Before we get started," Beckett interjects, "can we clear up the roles here?"

"What do you mean, roles?" Alexis asks in confusion. "Serena's got experience, so she tells us what to do and we ask questions."

"That's a fine approach," Beckett offers to avoid an argument, "but I meant something a little different. The reason you and I are part of this is obvious," she says to Alexis, "but Serena's role is less clear." _Much less clear than I'd like_ , Beckett admits to herself. "So, Serena, I'd like to retain you for this project. That way we have at least some arrangement to bind us together. How much will something like this cost?"

"A dollar," Serena says without hesitation, still looking at the floorplan. Beckett has the feeling that the diagram at which she's looking is a convenient excuse to keep her head down.

"I'm serious," Beckett tries again. "This is your profession and we're not looking to take advantage of you."

"A dollar is sufficient to create the type of relationship you described," Serena demurs again, and now Alexis is interested at the dodging.

"Serena, we're fine for resources and we can't rescue Rick without you," Beckett says reasonably. "So just name a price."

" _A dollar_ ," Serena says again, getting annoyed. "I'll take a dollar now and I'll work out the rest with Rick."

"Why are you being stubborn?" Beckett asks, getting irritated herself. "We need to get to work. Why are you being so difficult about this?"

"Because I'm not sure he didn't leave voluntarily!" Serena nearly shouts, causing all three women to glare at each other across the table at RCI. So far, the grand plan for combining efforts hasn't worked so well, and they're still just trying to figure out how to organize their group.

Alexis looks betrayed, finding herself lumped in with Beckett as a potential reason for her father's departure. "What is that supposed to mean?" she asks in a tone that mixes offense and hurt.

"Look," Serena says, frustrated. "I don't know your father all that well. We spent some time together – worked a case, went out on a date. I remember him as a charming, intelligent man with an insanely varied number of interests and the boyish enthusiasm to pursue them all," she recalls with a small smile. "But now I show up and you all act as if the man can't dress or look after himself," she says before focusing on Beckett, "and _you_ seem to have become even more practiced at jerking him around."

Beckett's about to interject but Serena keeps talking, now that she's decided to air her concern. "I've known a lot of men," she says, rolling her eyes at Beckett's huff, "yes, go ahead and smirk as you like, as if you're any different. Of the men I've known," she continues, "I can't think of any of them who wouldn't bolt for a lot less than what Rick's gone through."

"You don't know him," Beckett and Alexis reply in unison, before exchanging quick, annoyed looks.

"You asked me here because of my expertise," Serena tries again, pitching her voice in a more moderate tone. "You want me to help you get something that you can use to get him back. I'm willing to help, but I'm not going to accept payment or set the terms of my employment until I talk to _him_ and figure out if he's happy about what we've done. In my line of work," she says, cutting a look at Beckett, "it's not uncommon for people to ask me to recover things that aren't necessarily theirs. This situation is unique, because I can actually ask."

"We can't bring you in if we can't trust you to be a member of the team," Beckett grinds out, still appalled that she's talking about creating a formal conspiracy aimed at knowingly illegal behavior and frustrated that it's the thief who's thwarting her plan.

"And you'll appreciate why I can't accept payment without knowing the circumstances," Serena spits back. "Or are we back to our entrapment discussion?"

"How about this?" Alexis interjects to head off the incipient violence. Reaching into a desk drawer, she extracts a folder, from which she withdraws a stapled set of papers. "This is a non-exclusive contractor arrangement. You'd be an affiliate of RCI, payable based on negotiated rates, but subject to fierce non-disclosure and confidentiality provisions. Will this make everyone happy?" she asks, looking back and forth between Beckett and Serena.

 _Not really_ , Beckett thinks. Despite the herculean efforts of Castle's attorney, it's highly unlikely that a judge would rule a signatory bound by a contract that was entered into with the intent of committing a felony. But for every minute they spend arguing, the deadline on securing the artifact creeps closer. So, a meager shield is better than none at all. "Fine," she allows, just as Serena also agrees.

"There," Serena says as she signs the document with a flourish, "now you know I won't run. Can we get to work?"

Nearly two hours later, Beckett grudgingly admits that starting their meeting with such a fierce argument might've been for the best. They were all so happy to finally get to work that their fight paved the way for an uncommon focus. Schematics are strewn across every flat surface in the office not hosting a computer keyboard, and a smartboard is loaded with notes written in a simple code that prevents any inherent illegality from being plainly visible. Better yet, the recovery of the artifact is starting to seem achievable. There are a few different possible methods Serena's identified, depending on how brazen they intend to be and what kind of specialized equipment they can obtain without raising eyebrows.

"Who's got the shopping list?" Alexis asks while rubbing her eyes. Every once in a while, like now while she's stretching her arms wide, Beckett sees flashes of what Alexis looked like as a younger woman. She was a young teen when Beckett first got to know her. These flashes make Beckett wistful, reminding her of a simpler time, back before everything became so fraught.

"I have it," Beckett says softly, voice affected by her reminiscences. "Here you go."

"Thanks, Kate," Alexis says, her fatigue making her forget to be short with her father's wife. "Dad's got a vendor that can get this stuff for us pretty quick. If I call Al at home tonight he might even have something for us by tomorrow night. Let's get together then to talk logistics for a trip to Maryland. I'll send a text around once I've got some idea what the timing looks like."

The women agree with nods and stretches before the sense of discomfort creeps back. Now that they're done planning for the evening, there's nothing to distract them from the qualms they have about each other. Taking the initiative, Beckett makes a suggestion before someone has the audacity to suggest they go out for dinner together.

"Give you a lift?" she offers to a surprised Serena, who probably accepts out of shock. After quick goodbyes and a trip to the cruiser, they're on the road to the hotel at which Serena is staying.

"I wanted to say thank you," Beckett finally manages to say, breaking the silence that'd grown more oppressive with each block. "I know this isn't what you expected and that tensions are high. The fault for that lies squarely with me," she admits while gripping the steering wheel fiercely and focusing on looking forward. "I appreciate your help."

"I still don't believe your story," Serena answers, laughing when Beckett looks at her in shock. "Seriously – you think this makes any sense? I'm convinced that you need to trade the artifact for Rick. No, no," Serena says when Beckett looks like she's going to interject, "let's not get into that again. I've decided I'm going to do this. And do you know why?" she asks, turning in her seat to focus on Beckett's profile.

"Do I want to know?" Beckett mumbles, pulling a rich laugh out of Serena.

"Probably not," she answers directly. "When you were investigating me, Rick stood up for me. And not because of his attraction or as a way to make you jealous – it was clear from our first meeting that he was utterly besotted with you. No, he helped me because he that's who he seems to be – someone who enjoys helping when he can. So, for him, I'll give that a try, too," she says as if the notion of this motivation is something foreign but intriguing. "He had to put up with your jealousy during that case, and now I get that pleasure on this case."

The accusation is stated so boldly that it catches Beckett by surprise. She's nodding before she realizes she needs to object. "I am _not_ …"

"Don't even say it," Serena cuts her off. "You've been beside yourself since I arrived. You're not exactly an actress. It's funny," she ponders aloud, "given his obvious feelings, you should be the most secure wife in the world. But if you're worried about his affections drifting, you must've really treated him like shit."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Beckett defends by rote, while thinking that Serena's comments might explain exactly why she's feeling so terribly insecure. Incredibly thankful that they've reached their destination, she pulls to the curb and offers a parting shot. "I've made some choices that hurt Castle," she confesses, "but he's my husband. And you don't take things that don't belong to you," she reminds her passenger.

"True," Serena says as she steps out of the car. But before closing the door, she leans down to provide a parting shot of her own. "But I'm not sure he's yours anymore. That's another question I plan to ask when we get him back."

* * *

AN2: I'm having some cognitive dissonance with this story. Back when I started Running Water, I mentioned that it might end early because my story – which was meant to have recognizable characters and some humor – was giving me trouble since the early Locksat storyline was so terrible, giving us awkwardness in place of humor and characters who were barely recognizable. Now I'm finding the opposite. Thankfully, the writers seem to be focusing on how to make the show fun again (even if we haven't seen the end of this interminable Locksat nonsense), but HOWE isn't happy and light. So, don't be surprised if this story doesn't follow the apparently brightening cheer of season eight (not to mention that it's difficult to stay in character when that's a moving target).

On the plus side, a concurrence of writer's block and an upsurge in professional responsibilities forced me to sit down and outline how this story is going to end. There might be a little drift, but the scenes are all mapped out for what should be eleven chapters. And I'll start posting my new story as soon as I've got three more chapters written.

Finally, one geek note: I was in NYC for meetings last week. The last one was on the intersection with Broome Street, so I had to take a quick walk afterwards to check out Castle's neighborhood. The stroll actually helped contribute to a bit in the new story.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. But my thanks to those who created them and let us play.

A/N: A reminder for the AU setup: "Beckett" refers to the character we all know, while "Kate" is how her AU twin is referenced. Like the show, Beckett usually thinks of her husband as Castle, while Kate thinks of him as Rick. An odd note on where this is going follows this chapter.

.

 _"True," Serena says as she steps out of the car. But before closing the door, she leans down to provide a parting shot of her own. "But I'm not sure he's yours anymore. That's another question I plan to ask when we get him back."_

 _._

* * *

Before Beckett can say another word, the car door closes and Serena sways into her hotel, to the obvious delight of the porter at the door. With Serena's promise to ask Castle if he still committed to his wife still ringing in her ears, Beckett drives to her own hotel, a place that seems less hospitable every night.

Suffering a night of fitful sleep and troubling dreams, she finally gives up the same time the sun rises. When yoga fails to help her relax, Beckett decides it's time to beat her body into submission. She's not expected at the precinct today and while there's no reason she can't go in, she wants to make sure that she's not there when Alexis reaches out, just to prove that she can put her work aside to find Castle. So, she straps on the sneakers she hasn't worn in far too long and sets off for a slow but too-long run.

It's upon her return that the thought occurs to her, striking her like lightning. She's so bothered that she stops in the middle of the jogging path, pacing to cool-down while she looks up the phone number and calls Serena's hotel. After a few minutes, her suspicions are confirmed – Serena checked out shortly after Beckett dropped her off last night.

Expecting the result, she still sighs in dismay when Alexis' phone rolls straight to voicemail. She'd grown complacent, assumed that they were in this together. But it looks like she's been ditched. Without the equipment, she's not sure which approach they'll use to secure the artifact. And now she's got to decide if trying to find them as they move to secure the artifact is worth the risk: if they get the artifact and get Castle, it'll be that much more difficult to win him back. But if she blows their cover, then any chance of recovering her husband is lost.

Frustration, shame, and anger are all swirling and churning in her gut. She needs to clear her head, calm down and get some perspective. She's just trying to figure out how to do that when her cell goes off in her hand. Hoping it's Alexis, she answers quickly. "Beckett."

"Hey Captain," Ryan says quickly. "Sorry to bother you during your leave, but we need to talk about the Livingston case."

 _Dear Lord_ , she thinks, wondering if anything else can go wrong today. Budgeting time to get cleaned up and changed, she arranges to meet the boys at a diner so that they can talk away from the precinct. She'll dress down for the meeting, she decides. She's not going in disguise, but showing up in street clothes will throw off casual observers, and if anyone from the precinct sees them, her casual appearance will be consistent with her emergency leave.

Donning her hoodie brings unexpected tears to her eyes. The last time she wore this, she was on the lam, trying to evade the NYPD after Bracken set her up for the murder of Vulcan Simmons. Her mind flashes to her rendezvous with Castle at their swings, and his later willingness to leave everything behind to run away with her. Would he still be willing to do that today? Does she deserve that kind of support? She's ashamed to admit that she'd be unwilling to ask for fear of the possible answer.

Fighting her melancholy mood, Beckett makes her way to the diner, where Ryan and Esposito are already encamped, chomping on burgers and fries.

"Got you some rabbit food," Esposito says with his mouth full, gesturing to a pathetic little salad of wilted lettuce, woody radishes, and enough dressing to account for far more calories than the burgers that look and smell so delicious.

 _Penance_ , she thinks to herself, glumly taking a bite. "So, what's up with Livingston?"

"Vikram's nervous," Ryan says while Esposito nods along. "You didn't tell him about your emergency leave, did you?"

"Didn't even occur to me," Beckett confesses with a shrug. "He got a little… _hopeful_ yesterday and I was happy to put him out of my mind entirely," she says with a sigh. "But it was a mistake not to tell him. I'm sure he's coming up with all kinds of theories about what's going on."

"He mighta helped you yesterday," Esposito cuts in after a gulp of soda. "He's not exactly subtle, that guy. He must've asked everyone in the precinct why you were on leave. If you wanted anyone to know that you're taking time away from the precinct, that's covered," he says with a huff.

"I didn't need it," Beckett allows, "but it probably doesn't hurt. I've got to calm him down before he does something stupid, though."

"We were talking about that," Ryan interjects, wearing a look Beckett doesn't quite recognize. "What if we got him a message – you're safe but tending to a different aspect of the case. We won't say what, just tell him that we need to keep your absence low profile."

Beckett nods along, liking all aspects of the plan except for the one gaping flaw. "How do you expect to keep him under surveillance after you approach him? He'll be sensitive to seeing you guys after a talk like that."

"Well…," Ryan hesitates, wondering about the wisdom of airing the other half of his suggestion.

"It won't come from us," Esposito butts in, earning a surprised but grateful look from his partner. "We need to keep an eye on him. Someone else'll deliver your message."

"Oh, Lord," Beckett sighs, knowing how this ends. "She's _not_ going to be happy with me."

"Nope," Esposito agrees, "she's not. But you were a dumbass for thinking about keeping Lanie out of the loop on this. She's gonna kick your ass," he says with a proud chuckle.

"I can hold my own, Espo," Beckett objects, not entirely happy that she's being dismissed so easily. Her sour look intensifies when Esposito laughs in return.

"You're kidding, right? D'you have any idea how much shit she's given Castle about whatever it was he did to drive you away?" Esposito asks. "An' he just sat there looking like a dope, trying to come up with an answer. Lanie's gonna feel terrible about that, and she ain't gonna keep it to herself."

Losing her appetite, Kate drops her fork and her head, clamping her eyes shut in a vain effort to halt flashbacks of Castle's uncomfortable run-ins with Lanie that she's seen, trying to ignore the other occasions conjured by her imagination. "She's gonna kick my ass," Beckett repeats slowly.

"Damn right," Esposito nods, happy that Beckett's become somewhat agreeable, "in about five minutes," he says with a laugh, prompting Beckett to snap her head up and stare at him in disbelief.

"Five minutes?" she squeaks.

"Maybe earlier," Ryan confesses, making it clear he was a part of the conspiracy and bussing the trash from his meal as he stands. "Good luck staying off one of her tables."

"Thanks," Beckett moans in reply. She wants to rail a bit, remind them of who's captain, but she just can't muster the fire. Which will leave her particularly vulnerable for Lanie. With a sigh, Beckett realizes that perhaps this turn of events is for the best. She's not Catholic, but she has a sudden appreciation for the stress and cathartic relief of confession. At least, she hopes there'll be some relief.

"Before you go," she manages as the boys are about to depart, "I need you to trace two phones for me. I expect they're both turned off or have been left behind here in the city." Extracting one of her business cards from her wallet, she jots two number strings on the back and hands the card to Ryan.

"Alexis, right, that first one?" he asks, furrowing his brow. "Who's the second one registered to?"

"Serena Kaye," Beckett replies in as clear a voice as she can manage, which isn't very clear at all.

"Serena Kaye?" Esposito asks after he barks a laugh. "Holy shit, Beckett," he says, perhaps thinking to his dressing down yesterday. "You really made a mess of this."

* * *

"Captain Beckett?" Alexis asks as she approaches Kate's table in the café. Her appearance throws Kate for a moment. Alexis appears to be in a transitional state, locked somewhere between the Goth version she'd met a year ago in the hospital and the professional chic version that exists back where Rick comes from. She's not sure if this is Alexis' new look, or if she's migrating back from her West Coast experiment.

"Hi Alexis," Kate says happily as she stands to greet her guest, surprising her with a hug. "Thank you for coming. But it's 'Kate,' remember?"

"We haven't spoken for a while," Alexis says haltingly, still wondering a bit about Kate's outreach. "I wondered what you were doing."

"Trust me, Alexis," Kate says with a rueful smile. "You won't believe it when I tell you. But not here – I want to talk about your father, so I was thinking that we should go somewhere a little more private. I live upstairs across the street, if that's okay?"

Alexis looks a little surprised and a little nervous, but her curiosity about her father and her recollections of painful shared conversations with Kate following his death tip the scales in favor of going along. Turning down the offer of a coffee or tea for the road, Alexis lets Kate direct her across the street and up to her apartment, where the ladies doff their coats and Kate guides Alexis to a seat on the couch.

Delaying just a bit, Kate walks into the kitchen, returning with glasses of ice water that she sets on the coffee table. Then, she slowly lowers herself onto the other end of the couch, turning to face Alexis.

"How've you been?" she asks a bit inanely, searching for a way to get the conversation started. "I'm sorry I've been distracted the last two months – I didn't mean to disappear on you."

"'S okay," Alexis replies, looking down and plucking imaginary lint from her skirt. "You're a busy woman. I appreciate your effort to help, but you don't owe me anything. I know that now, even if I didn't act that way back when he…," she trails off, drifting back to that terrible day at the hospital.

"Alexis," Kate says clearly, "you couldn't be more wrong. I owe you so much. You and your father. I'm alive because of your dad. I'm _living_ because of your dad."

Alexis hears the inflection in Kate's words and looks thoughtful, wondering about the emphasis on 'living.' "That's good," she says slowly. "He'd have liked that."

 _Maybe_ , Kate thinks. _Maybe if I'd handled it better_.

"That's actually a good segue to what I wanted to talk about," Kate says gently, forgoing more small talk. "In fact, to honor him, why don't we start with a story?" she asks, then smiles as she sees Alexis warm to this idea. Permission granted, Kate proceeds.

"Have you ever wondered about how different things could be with just one small twist of fate?" she asks, then curses herself as she sees the hurt return to Alexis' eyes. "I know you have. We're alike in that way – I must've imagined a million different things that would've prevented my mom from being near that alley when she was killed. And I know," she says while reaching out to clasp Alexis' hand, "that you must've thought about all the small changes that would've stopped your dad from being with me when he was shot."

"I did," Alexis confesses, before swiping angrily at the tears that have already broken free, always so close to the surface. But her other hand stays in Kate's grip.

"I've always been careful not to ask you about this, but I think that was a mistake. Will you tell me a little bit about him?" Kate asks gently. "About how he was in the days before he was shot?"

Alexis withdraws a bit, pulling in on herself. Kate can't tell if she's hiding from the question or recollecting, so she sits quietly and waits.

"He was different," Alexis says in a low tone, voice squeaking. "He'd been so despondent, so _disconnected_ , for so long that it just hurt to live with a… remnant of what he used to be," she confesses, guilt apparent in her voice for thinking that she's speaking ill of the dead. "But in those last few days, it's like he was reborn. He was my dad again – the earnest, loving goofball that I'd almost started to convince myself I'd imagined. He had his spark back," she tries to explain with a shrug, uncomfortable with her inability to describe her feelings.

"I think that's a perfect explanation," Kate soothes, catching a surprised and grateful look from Alexis. "I've gotten to know more about him recently, and I think I can see what you mean. 'Passion' isn't quite the right word, is it?" Kate ruminates while Alexis simply watches. "'Passion' implies more mature desire. Maybe 'enthusiasm'? Something purer, more related to the excitement in the miracles of everyday life, the promise of possibility," she says while trailing off and feeling embarrassed herself.

"Yeah," Alexis answers, wiping her cheek with her free hand again. "That's how I remember him best – boyish. He could get so excited about the silliest things," she says with an exhalation that's a mix of laughter and tears. "And while a small part of you was thinking ' _that's just dumb_ ,' the bigger part of you was saying ' _Hey, live a little! Why can't things be this way?_ '" she says with a laugh.

"Like what?" Kate asks, sensing a theme.

"Like… anything," Alexis says with a laugh. "Like space cowboys. Like potato chip ice cream. Like studying for an exam by playing laser tag or having dessert for dinner," she says wistfully, eyes dreamy as she recalls fonder memories of her father.

"Like every day held the possibility of joy," Kate marvels aloud, suddenly finding a little bit of her own truth and marveling that fate might've pointed her at Castle all those long years ago.

"Exactly," Alexis agrees, before growing somber. "That's why it hurt so bad to lose him. I'd just gotten him back. He'd been missing for six years – there, but not really. I got him back for two days, then he was gone. Still," she says bravely as she wipes more tears, "I treasure those days," she says, feeling self-conscious again. "If he had to leave, at least I got to remember him as he should have been, rather than the wreck he became."

"I don't suppose he told you any weird stories before he left, about Incan artifacts or alternative realities?" Kate asks, turning the corner into the last topic before Castle appears.

"He did!" Alexis replies in surprise. "Just before he ran out to find you. I only saw him one more time after that, until the hospital. When he asked me how we drifted apart, and he hugged me again…," she drifts off, feeling exposed. Feeling heartbroken herself, Kate decides it's time for a reunion.

"He was right," Kate says softly. "There is an artifact, and in some circumstances it can be used to explore realities where small changes make big differences."

"Kate," Alexis answers in an admonishing tone, "please don't patronize me. I remember him fondly – you don't need to embellish for my sake."

Rather than reply, Kate reaches underneath the couch with her free hand, lifting out the wooden box she stashed there earlier. Turning it to face Alexis, she pries back the lid, focusing on Alexis' widening eyes rather than the box.

"Stop it," Alexis says, pulling her hand back and turning away. "I don't pretend anymore, Captain. He's dead and I need to accept that." Despite her strong words, Alexis can't help her eyes from returning to the box.

"Yes, Alexis, your father is dead," Kate says as kindly as she can manage. "But the man you met for those two days – he's still alive. And he'd like to see you."

" _Don't_ ," Alexis says fiercely. " _Please_ don't be cruel. You're the only one who really talked to me about this, who gave me anything other than bland platitudes and empty promises. I need you to be you, not try to be my dad."

"I can only be me, Alexis," Kate answers, choked up at her unrealized importance to Alexis, "and sometimes I don't even do that very well," she admits, thinking about the things that have happened recently. "But I don't need to be your dad. He's here."

"Here as in _here_?" she asks, tapping her chest over her heart. "Or…"

" _Here_ as in here in my room," she says while gesturing to the hallway, "waiting for us to talk and giving you the opportunity to say no," Kate says gently. "But before you decide, Alexis, you need to realize that that he is and isn't your father – he's the version of your father that was here for two days, who comes from a place where he never suffered the setback that devastated him here."

"And he wants to see me?" Alexis asks, still uncertain.

" _Desperately_ ," Kate admits. "Please also understand, Alexis, that he can't stay. It's dangerous for him to be here and I'm trying to get him to go home. But he wouldn't think about leaving before talking to you." Looking into Alexis' incredulous stare, Kate tries to prompt her. "Would you like to see him?"

Not trusting her voice, Alexis nods slowly, still looking like she's in shock.

"I'll go get him, then I'll stay in my room to offer you both some privacy," Kate says as she stands, pausing to rest a hand on the young woman's shoulder. "If you need anything, just call out for me." Then, with a gentle squeeze, Kate turns and walks down the hall.

She enters her bedroom after a gentle knock, finding an incredibly nervous-looking Castle sitting on the bed, trying desperately not to fidget. "Will she see me?" he asks quickly, nervously.

"She's on the couch," Kate answers with a nod. "I'll be here if either of you need me."

Castle stands, takes a deep breath, and then strides toward the door. He's nearly out of Kate's room when his manners kick in and he lurches to a stop. "Thank you," he whispers to Kate, getting a pursed-mouth, teary-eyed nod in return.

Moments later find him approaching the couch, where Alexis looks like she's jammed somewhere between terrified and elated. Exercising more restraint than he thought he possessed, he stops a few steps away, letting Alexis examine him as she stands. While she looks like she's trying to decide between a hug and bolting for the door, Castle lets her inspect him.

"Daddy?" she asks in a tremulous voice, still keeping her distance.

"Hi, Pumpkin," he answers warmly, hands still twitching at his sides.

His nickname for her seems to break through her reticence. Before he can blink, Alexis lurches forward and clings to him, desperate sobs wracking her body even as she makes contact. Castle holds her tight, rocking gently in place and cooing words of comfort. It takes many long minutes for her gasps to subside, and each of them treasure every moment.

"Come on, Baby Bird," Castle nudges as Alexis winds herself down. "Let's have a seat."

"No," she grumbles into his chest, sounding young and petulant. "Not letting go."

Castle's chuckle seems to help restore Alexis, who must remember it from days long gone by. "I won't leave right away, I promise," he says solemnly. "We've got some time tonight."

Grudgingly, Alexis disengages, though she grabs his hand in an iron grip as she moves back to the couch, forcing him to step over the coffee table to make it to the couch.

"Tripping over it would've been a better proof of who you are," Alexis teases with a watery smile, "but your proud smile for having not tripped is a close second."

"Laugh all you want," Castle pretends to complain, "but that table is cursed. I wasn't here for ten seconds before I tripped over that blasted thing."

"There's my Dad," she says with another laugh and an endearing smile. It fades, though, when the awkwardness of this conversation starts to become apparent. What do you say to a dead parent?

"Hey," Castle nudges, squeezing her hand. "I know this is weird, even by my standards. Maybe I could tell you about myself, explain what happened? That'd give us a place to start."

"Yeah, okay," Alexis agrees, still uncomfortable but thrilled to hear his voice again.

"You probably remember that I was pretty desperate to get back to Beckett the last time I was here," Castle begins, and Alexis nods along while recalling the bizarre conversation from a year ago. "I landed here that first time because I was feeling guilty. I missed my wedding to Beckett and we were having a hard time dealing with that. I made the mistake of wondering what her life would've been like had we never met and *poof*, here I was."

"Wait a minute," Alexis interjects, leaning back. "You bailed on your own wedding?"

"No, I…," he says, uncharacteristically tongue-tied. "Okay, we need to go a bit farther back. Where I come from, I met Beckett right after I killed off Derrick Storm. She arrested me, actually."

"Another police horse?" Alexis says, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

"No," he says with a laugh. "I was just another innocent, railroaded by the system," he tries to say before Alexis' flat look pulls him back to a realistic narrative. "A murderer was copying scenes from my books," he explains, seeing dawning apprehension on his daughter's face. "I helped with the case – got arrested for making off with some evidence, but I managed to talk myself out of that," he says to his daughter's stifled laugh. "But Beckett was… I can't even describe to you how revelatory I found that meeting. I had focus, purpose. I persuaded Bob to clear the way so that I could shadow Beckett at work. She stole my imagination, then my heart, then my status as a bachelor," he says with a laugh.

"So," Alexis prompts, smiling but looking confused, "the wedding?"

"I know this sounds ridiculous," Castle prefaces, "but it turns out you meet some pretty sketchy people while working Homicide," he delivers in a deadpan voice, getting another eye roll. "Beckett actually went into police work because her mother was killed…"

"I know," Alexis interjects. "We've talked about it. About losing parents," she confesses, looking down.

"In my years with her, we found ourselves in a ridiculous number of tight spots. I lost track years ago of how many times we saved each other's lives," he admits to Alexis' surprised look, "though I was ahead when I lost count."

"Of course you were," says the girl who still remembers his laser tag gloating.

"Well," he continues, looking affronted at the tone of disbelief, "somewhere along the way, we ticked someone off. I was on my way to the wedding when I was run off the road. Next thing I remember is waking up in a hospital bed two months later, sunburned, dehydrated, and with a gunshot wound."

"What happened?" Alexis asks in terrible wonder.

"We still don't know, though bits and pieces come back in some of my… dreams," he falters, realizing that adjusting his word choice didn't fool Alexis. "You and Beckett – well, my version of you and Beckett – spent those two months looking for me. Without knowing what happened, it was pretty hard to get back to our lives, including the engagement. That's why I was wondering about whether Beckett would've been better off without me when I got pulled here."

Alexis nods, taking in this ridiculous story. She's feeling a little credulous, but the miracle of her father's appearance before her provides a fairly good reason to suspend disbelief. But if she's going to believe this tale, she needs the answers to a few hard questions.

"Why didn't you come back?" she asks in a small voice. "Why did it take you a year?"

"I'm sorry, Pumpkin," he struggles to explain. "I didn't realize that the me here died. I thought that when I went back, things kind of just went back to normal. I went back and married Beckett as soon as I arrived. It wasn't until Kate came to visit that I learned what happened here."

"Kate visited you?" Alexis asks in surprise. "Your wife must've loved that."

"I know, right?" he laughs. "They didn't get on too well," he mugs it up for her. "Kate came to visit because a few other things are different now between here and where I come from. Back at home, we caught the man responsible for Johanna's murder," he says to Alexis' gasp. "So, Kate asked me to help her find justice here. And so here I am," he says, glossing over the stickier parts of how he arrived.

"It's dangerous," Alexis admonishes. "Kate told me so. You died on me once," she says while using her free hand to poke is bicep, "don't you dare think about doing it again."

"I'm safe, Alexis," he assures her. "I need to do a few things here, then I'll retreat home," he says vaguely.

"You're lying," Alexis says bluntly studying her father's face. He's about to defend himself when she cuts him off. "Don't bother – you're up to something, I could always tell," she reiterates, studying him intently. "What's going on?"

"Just a few things I need to take care of before I leave," he says again to her skeptical look. "But there are a few things I want to share with you, first, if that's okay?" At her nod Castle reaches into her pocket and withdraws a USB drive.

"On this drive," he says as he drops it into her outstretched palm, "are the working versions of every Nikki Heat novel."

"Your pen name was inspired by a stripper?" Alexis asks in confusion. "I guess things aren't that different where you come from."

"Why does everyone think Nikki is a stripper's name?" Castle asks in exasperation, barely catching Alexis' look of mirth. "Nikki is my character, not my pen name. She's the police detective inspired by Beckett," he explains. "The Heat series was my greatest literary accomplishment – put Storm to shame, really."

"So, not only did you keep writing, but you wrote a female protagonist?" Alexis asks with dawning pride. "And it's good?"

"It's great," Castle replies, beaming. "Would you do me a favor?" he asks earnestly. "I don't want my literary legacy here to be that awful… to be _Finite Laughter_ ," he backs off, not wanting to besmirch the dead, even if it's himself. "Posthumous publishing is nothing new. Would you call Gina, see if she'd be interested in publishing these?"

"Sure," Alexis answers, bouncing the drive in her palm. "So I guess this means that where you come from, you and Gina…"

"Yeah," Castle sighs and scrubs a hand through his hair. "That was the same, here or there. Except where I come from, we tried it again."

"You married her _again_?!"

"No!" Castle quickly clarifies. "We tried dating again, after an early misunderstanding with Beckett. Didn't go any better the second time around," he admits with a grimace, "although you managed to score some Taylor Swift tickets out of the arrangement."

"Well, I guess it was okay then," she replies with a satisfied nod.

"Don't let Gina screw you, though," Castle warns. "I owe her the first shot, but if she balks, feel free to talk to whomever you like. Just one thing?" he asks, then continues at her nod. "Drop the dedications. As important as those are to me where I come from, they won't make sense here and might raise some uncomfortable questions. There's a file in there with some suggested replacements," he says while pointing to the drive, "but I leave that up to you."

"And if I want to keep these for myself?" she asks, cradling the drive.

"Then you have a private book collection," he says with a smile. "But that could be tuition you're holding in your hand, or a downpayment on a house. I turned down Bond to write those," he brags to her surprised look, "and it was one of the best decisions I ever made, for reasons only partially literary. But," he adds quickly, "if you share those with anyone, will you make sure Kate gets copies?"

"This is like Christmas," Alexis jokes to hide her emotion while nodding to Castle's request. "To find out that my dad wrote a whole book series and it's mine, all mine!" she laughs as she tries, and fails, to sound like a movie villain.

Smiling at her nonsense, Castle can't help but to push a little further. "I've got another gift for you, if you want it," he offers, growing a little pensive.

She can see the turn in his mood and squeezes his hand to keep his attention. "I don't need presents, Dad," she says quietly. "Not when seeing you again, if only for a little while, is the answer to my prayers."

That simple sentence blows away Castle's resolve, leaving him choked up on the couch. "Hug?" he asks hesitantly, sighing in relief when this version of his daughter reels him in again. After a few long moments, he pulls back and turns back to storytelling to get himself under control.

"You've traveled a different path here than where I come from," he says, almost needlessly. "With my time at the precinct helping me focus as a writer and as a person, we had a stable home life," he says to her chuff of surprise. "Mother never quite reached the success she enjoys here," he admits, "but you and I? We're together, and happy. Sure, I get underfoot sometimes, and you almost ruined it all by shacking up with an insufferable hippie-slacker-juicified-disaster," he says to her laugh, "but we see each other almost every day even though you have your own place in town. And I still miss you," he admits, looking down in embarrassment and missing Alexis' tears that come from sorrow at what she lacks and awe at what he's found with another version of her.

"What was his name?" she asks, wondering about this other version of her. "My _paramour_?"

"Don't," Castle raises a hand, flinching at the thought of his daughter using that word and shaking his head vigorously to dislodge unwanted images and memories. "His name was Pi."

"Pie?" she asks with a laugh. "Come on, really? I'm supposed to believe that? You could've gone with Rain or Windsong or something at least somewhat plausible. Let me guess – he was a baker?" she asks with a roll of her eyes.

"Pi as in _3.14_ , not pie as in _a la mode_ ," he growls in response. "And he was a fruitarian. And due to cruel, cruel fate, he lived on my couch until you two found a place together."

"God, I've missed you," Alexis exclaims, pulling him in for another hug. "You tell the _best_ stories."

"He's not a story!" he exclaims in exasperation, not liking his role as the boy who cried wolf. "I've still got a scar on the bottom of my foot from his belt on the floor," he complains as he lifts his foot as if Alexis could see the scar through his shoe. "'Course, that's nothing on my emotional scars. And my kitchen!" he cries out. "Juice and fruit pulp everywhere. You want ants? Because that's how you get ants."

Alexis had found it increasingly difficult to contain her laughter during Castle's escalating tirade, so that she erupts upon his conclusion. He's looking at her askance when she finally winds down. Casting him a quick look, she says " _Ants!_ " and then peals of laughter again ring through Kate's apartment.

"It was a deeply scarring experience," Castle says primly after she laughs herself into breathlessness.

"I'm sure it was," she chuckles. "I'm also sure I stayed with him a bit longer than I should have just to set you off."

"I knew it!" he exclaims over his hard-won confession. "When I get back, you're in so much trouble."

The thought of getting her alternate-self into hot water makes her smile, but the thought of her father's departure also brings a sense of melancholy. Castle recognizes the mood shift and returns to their earlier conversation.

"When I leave," he says, "you'll still have a male relative here," he offers, watching her face as her brows knit in confusion. "My dad," he offers softly, watching the shock spread rapidly. "But only if you want to, and only once it's safe."

"What does that mean?" Alexis asks, wary about the sudden appearance of a long-lost relative.

"Dad's a bad-ass," Castle offers with a chuff of laughter. "Didn't you wonder where I got the shiner?" he says while pointing to his eye.

"I figured you got fresh with Kate," Alexis answers glibly. "It's not like there's a lack of precedent for women slapping you."

"Another universal constant," Castle allows with a smirk. "Let me tell you another story, a scary one this time. You – my version of you – were kidnapped. It took a long time to figure out you were the target, and then longer to figure out why, and then even longer to get to Paris."

"They took me to Paris?!" Alexis asks in shock. "I guess I'm destined to never have a pleasant trip there."

"I'd recommend you stay away," Castle answers seriously. "You were taken by an old enemy of dad's who was using you to lure him out of hiding. Dad's CIA," he explains, "and he's done some bad things to some bad people. I got this," he says while pointing to his eye, "because he thought I was someone impersonating his son."

Alexis nods but wants to get back to the story. "What happened in Paris?"

"You were being held and dad sent me in as a decoy," he says while Alexis looks increasingly distressed. "I had two hidden bombs, one for the big bad guy and one to open your cage. We ran like hell and dad took care of everyone else. A quick sprint to the embassy, some hush-hush paperwork to get us on a flight, and voila – back at home. Not exactly the way I thought I'd meet my father."

Nodding, Alexis looks a little apprehensive. "Is he… safe?"

Castle laughs, which doesn't reassure her. "He's… _capable_ ," Castle says after pondering potential adjectives. "He's still at the Agency and is working on something big right now, something that will give Kate some closure," he says to Alexis' responding nod. "But if you're okay with it, I'll invite him to look you up once it's safe. Unless and until that happens," he says softly, "think of him as a guardian angel."

"A particularly capable guardian angel," Alexis repeats, "with a mean left hook."

"It was a backhand, actually," Castle answers with a lopsided smile. "Oh, and he's married. So maybe don't mention it to Mother just now."

Alexis is about to reply when her phone chirps. Pulling it out, she sighs. "Grams, checking up on me. Can't exactly tell her what I'm doing."

"No, probably not," Castle agrees. "I know I should see her, too, but…"

"But, what?" Alexis asks, wondering why they're meeting here instead of the loft.

"But two things worry me," he confesses. "This is going to make me sound like an ass, but I don't want to kill her," he says with an uncomfortable laugh. "I was worried about shocking you, and you're young and vibrant. I worry about Mother in general, and she's much less open to unexpected scenarios than you are, Pumpkin."

"I guess I can see that," Alexis agrees. "But that's only one reason," she notes pointedly.

"She doesn't need to see me," Castle says, then backtracks when he sees Alexis start to object. "Don't get me wrong, I know she loves me and misses me. But she's good here, Alexis. Where I come from, she moved in with me after the trouble with her husband. She drifted for a few years, which is totally fine – I was actually happy to be able to provide her a refuge after everything she did when I was young. But with things going well for me and our home life so happy, she was content to simply be. Here, she had more drive to get out and it's led to great success. I don't want to mess with that."

"So if she's better off here, that means I'm a mess?" Alexis asks, hurt.

"Of course not, Pumpkin," Castle chides gently. "Don't play word games with me, you'll still lose. One, you're my daughter and I'll always want to see you, any version of you," he says quietly but passionately, winning a small smile. "Two, the last time we talked, I started trying to undo some bad advice you'd heard from the me here. Never forget, Alexis, that even little things can have incredible results. Just look at me – what happens if someone else works that case that led Beckett to arresting me? What happens if I don't talk Bob into forcing my way into the precinct? What happens if I'm so selfish, so wrapped up in myself, that I let my single greatest accomplishment move across the country to California? Little things can make the biggest difference. When I left you last year, you seemed to need a little faith. I wanted to see you, help restore that faith. Lend you mine, if you needed it."

"I'm going to miss you, Daddy," Alexis mutters, tears starting again.

"Look," he says bracingly. "Text Mother, tell her you're spending a little time with Kate," he suggests. "She can't be too worried if you're hanging out with an NYPD captain. Kate'll be happy to drive you back. But let's spend a little more time together, first," he says while pulling out a phone of his own. "This doesn't work for calls here," he says while shaking the phone, "but I've got some incredible pictures of a young woman you know well and not at all. Maybe you'd like to hear some stories?"

"From you?" Alexis asks with a blossoming smile. "Always."

* * *

"Are we there yet?" Alexis asks from the passenger seat of the rented sedan, still jammed in the parking lot that's sometimes referred to as I-495. New to DC, neither woman anticipated that they could be facing an hour-long commute just to get from their hotel to the University of Maryland.

" _So_ glad I never had kids," Serena mumbles jokingly from behind the wheel.

"It's not too late," Alexis teases in response.

"And get a little girl whose genetic inheritance is an ability to bypass security systems and manipulate guards?" Serena answers. "Can you imagine? I'd have to spend every hour with her, because no babysitter or daycare would put up with a little Houdini."

"I don't think you're looking at this the right way," Alexis suggests as she takes another sip of Diet Coke. "Try thinking from Dad's perspective."

"Scary," Serena mutters again, getting another laugh.

"Seriously, though," Alexis presses. "He'd just think about the possibilities of a new playmate, a miniature partner in crime. Now _that_ would be a kick," she imagines, "Dad running around with a little B &E expert – as if he doesn't get in enough trouble already."

Serena laughs, but holds her tongue. She notices Alexis' look of consternation, which tells her that the conversational gambit wasn't an idle one.

"Anything you want to ask me there, kid?" Serena says with a quick pointed look before turning to stare again at the bumper of the car stopped in front of them.

"Yeah," Alexis nods, not upset about being called out. "I'm wondering why you're doing this. It's obviously not for Beckett. She might've called you, but the two of you are hardly good friends."

"I like a challenge," Serena answers, perhaps a little too quickly and glibly. "I like your father."

Alexis nods at her simple answers, thinking for a moment. "How?" she asks as an equally simple follow-up.

"Not romantically," Serena replies, still looking forward. "Well, yes romantically, but not just that. You're dad's an interesting guy. I've always wondered what would've happened if things had gone differently, if he hadn't already been so wrapped up in her. That's why I like this case – if there's anything to this ridiculous story you've laid out, it's a chance to see how a different choice changes things."

Alexis nods, letting the crack about the ridiculous story pass by without comment. "I kind of wish my story was nonsense, actually," she offers, continuing after an inquiring noise from Serena. "I've been doing a little reading about quantum physics and the theories of alternate dimensions," she says as she shrugs, as if this is everyday fare. "I find it a bit terrifying that there are so many other realities. I mean, look at ours," she says. "We're dealing with two situations that differ based on whether Dad met Beckett seven years ago. Fine, that's a big difference. But there are dimensions for everything! I had soda instead of orange juice," she says while pointing at her can. "There's another reality. If every little choice or deviation by anyone creates a new reality, there's an infinite number of variations," she says, sounding daunted.

"Easy to get lost," Serena agrees.

"Exactly!" Alexis agrees. "Say we get the artifact – how in the world do we know where to find Dad?"

"I don't think it'll be as daunting as you think," Serena says with a wink, "since we'll just be turning the artifact over to whoever has your dad. _But_ ," she says quickly, "playing out your sci-fi game, we wouldn't be dealing with infinite possibilities – we know the subset we're dealing with. Plus, I suspect that hopes or intention will matter – after all, that Kate found your dad and it doesn't sound like she hopped all over to get here. I bet it'll be easier than you think."

"I hope you're right," Alexis agrees, trying to sound optimistic. She sits quietly for a few moments as they inch forward in traffic, before laughing. "It reminds me of those choose-your-own adventure books when I was a kid."

"What are those?" Serena asks, getting a surprised look from Alexis.

"You never read those?" Alexis replies. "They were great. You'd read a bit of the story but then face a choice. Depending on your choice, the story split and you'd reach different branch points, so that the same starting point creates tens of possible endings."

"Sounds fun," Serena agrees. "I'll have to get some for my imaginary daughter."

"Just don't let Dad get his hands on them," Alexis warns, though the happy look on her face suggests this isn't a bad memory.

"Tell," Serena prompts, happy to have a distraction from traffic.

"Even back then," Alexis launches into the story, making Serena laugh and think again about daughters inheriting characteristics from their parents, "Dad knew publishers and typesetters, guys who'd do favors for him. It took me years to figure this out, but he'd read me the stories and not like the choices. So, he started adulterating my copies, getting his friends to match the typeset of the book and inserting his own choices and stories."

"That sounds sweet," Serena leads.

"It was," Alexis laughs, "and embarrassing. I didn't realize he was doing it for a long time. It wasn't until I had friends over for a sleepover and we got into an argument about a favorite. Paige was convinced I was making up the story. We had a big pillow-fight about it, actually. So, the next day, we went to her place and compared our books."

Serena laughs, imagining two young Nancy Drews comparing notes to resolve the mystery of the divergent stories. "Did you secure a confession from your father?"

"No!" Alexis laughs. "I confronted Dad with both copies of the book, and he convinced me that Paige's book 'lacked imagination.' He spun this elaborate story about how books grow with love and attention, just like flowers grow with sun and water. He had me completely convinced!" she laughs, joined by Serena. "I still think he's right, actually," she confesses, looking wistful again.

"Your father sounds like an interesting man," Serena wonders, brightening as the traffic before them seems to dislodge.

"He has been," Alexis agrees, "and will be again. We just need to bring him back. Then I'll save him."

* * *

Another restless night following a troubling day has Beckett making several attempts to slot her key into the door at RCI before she finally succeeds. Her head still throbs, marking one more reason why moving her session with Lanie to the Old Haunt was probably a terrible idea. She took her lumps, and it looked for the first hour that her friendship had been harmed irreparably. But after more shots, more harangues, and, finally, more hugs, they seem to be in a place where she can rebuild her friendship. As long as she doesn't misstep again.

But her conversation with Lanie left her far too drunk and emotionally drained to plan for her trip to Maryland, much less actually depart. So, an early if painful start today seemed like the best option. Just one last stop here at Castle's office to see if there's anything of use, then she'll jump on her bike and head south, relying on the open road to help her plan what she'll do upon arrival.

It's the work of only a few minutes to find the phones that Ryan's trace said were at this location. There they are, together in a desk drawer. So, not only was the decision to leave them behind a strategic one, but their location here means that Alexis probably scoured the office of anything of use. She would've known that Beckett would trace the phones, even if checking out the office wasn't an obvious stop. Still, Beckett spends fifteen minutes poking around, making sure that she's not overlooked anything of interest.

 _Time to hit the road_ , she thinks, giving up her search. But before she leaves, she wants to spend just a moment communing with her husband. Pulling the book that activates the door to the secret room, Beckett enters slowly, taking a moment to soak up the ambiance. She makes her way to the sofa, where she takes a seat before flopping onto her side, pushing her face into the cushion where she swears she can still smell Castle's scent. It's silly, probably a sense memory more than anything, but she clings to it. Misses it.

She's just trying to persuade herself to leave when noise from the anteroom catches her attention. Bolting stealthily upright, she draws her backup weapon and slips to the door, listening carefully. It might only be Haley, but someone's in the room. And if it is Haley, Beckett thinks, then she'll forgive an armed defense.

Wheeling around the corner, Beckett's "Freeze!" dies on her lips. Because it's not Haley in the office, but someone far less welcome. Leaving her weapon pointed at the visitor, Beckett can only growl. "What the hell are you doing here? Where's Castle?"

"I need your help," Kate says in concern, both arms raised high and the artifact still clutched in one hand. "It's Rick," she says, before swallowing and looking beseechingly at Beckett. "I lost him."

* * *

AN2: This week's news slowed me down a bit. I'll freely confess that I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around a show about Castle without Beckett. In particular, I'm struggling to imagine what they'll do to explain Beckett's departure (whatever form it takes) in such a way that doesn't irreparably harm Castle or make him unlikeable. (I'll miss Lanie, too, but they let her character go after season seven and just haven't managed to tell her yet.) I'd cast my faith in the writers, but based on season eight, that's probably asking far too much.

So, I'm going to try to ignore the drama about the show and focus on the characters I've enjoyed so much through the first seven seasons. I'll keep writing about them until I run out of stories to tell or until there's no one here to read them.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. But my thanks to those who created them and let us play.

A/N: A reminder for the AU setup: "Beckett" refers to the character we all know, while "Kate" is how her AU twin is referenced. Like the show, Beckett usually thinks of her husband as Castle, while Kate thinks of him as Rick. An odd note on where this is going follows this chapter.

.

" _I need your help," Kate says in concern, both arms raised high and the artifact still clutched in one hand. "It's Rick," she says, before swallowing and looking beseechingly at Beckett. "I lost him."_

* * *

"What do you mean you lost him? Where is he?" Beckett seethes, convinced that this is a ploy.

"Last night was a bit intense," Kate begins her explanation, before looking cross. "Look, can you lower the weapon? I'm here to talk."

"Just like last time, right?" Beckett asks, leaving her gun pointed at the unwelcome visitor.

"I've already apologized to Rick about that," Kate says, lowering her arms and sitting down on the desk, ignoring the weapon. "I'm sorry – it was an impulsive decision that I've regretted since then."

"Right," Beckett replies doubtfully. "But your regret wasn't quite enough to send him back."

"I gave him the artifact," Kate answers softly. "But he wasn't ready to come back."

Beckett's shock is apparent by the lowering of her weapon, but she recovers quickly. "You're a liar," she growls, training her gun on Kate again. "You lied about me to Castle, and now you're lying about him to me. If he had the artifact, he'd be here and you'd be stranded back where you belong."

"Really?" Kate asks, her own anger starting to burn through her contrition. "Tell me this doesn't sound like your husband – I gave him the artifact but he said he couldn't go back yet. He had to do three things first. One for me," she says while blushing. "One for you," she says while nodding to Beckett. "And one for Alexis."

That sounds exactly like Castle, Beckett realizes, lowering and holstering her weapon before walking fully into the office and perching on a chair. "What happened?" she asks tersely, not happy about needing to prolong this conversation and keeping her words short as a result.

"He took care of the last one first," Kate explains, "last night. It was… intense." When Beckett shoots her an annoyed look for such a limited answer, Kate decides that she owes a more complete explanation. "I invited Alexis over, prepared her for seeing Rick again. She was terrified of getting her hopes up, but she trusted me."

"Why?" Beckett asks, surprised. "Why would Alexis trust you?"

"We're…," Kate struggles a bit to explain. "We're… we've talked since Rick – our Rick – died. I know about losing a parent, and she needed someone who'd really talk to her."

"Oh," Beckett replies, seemingly surprised or confused by the thought of Kate and Alexis sharing a bond, given that it sees like such a remote possibility now in this reality. Unwilling to dwell on what led to the fracturing of that relationship, she looks to Kate for more of the story.

"After she was ready, Rick came in and they talked. I stayed in my room to give them some privacy," she explains with another blush, "but I could hear almost everything. It's a good thing we're quiet when we cry," she admits with a self-conscious huff.

Not sure how to respond, Beckett tries to get back to finding her husband. "Did he take her home?"

"No," Kate replies, looking a little choked up. "I drove her back. Their goodbye was… difficult. I was the only one who could drive – they were both _wrecked_ ," she remembers in a small voice. "She's probably exhausted now. Rick gave her his novels from here so that she could get them published. I bet she started reading as soon as she got in the door."

"I thought you were going to publish the novels?" Beckett pokes, a reference to their first conversation.

"They belong to Alexis," is Kate's simple reply. "I'm hoping I'll get a chance to read them, though."

"So," Beckett says after a moment's thought. "Castle was gone when you got back?"

"No, he was still at my apartment," Kate replies. "He'd tried to get ready for bed, but he was kind of a mess. He wasn't thinking very clearly." Looking up to see Beckett looking furious, Kate lifts her palms. "He sleeps on the couch. Like on the Dunn case, he said, whatever that means."

"And I suppose he cooks you pancakes, too?" Beckett retorts, remembering that time from years ago.

"That clearly means something to you that I don't understand," Kate says, not bothered by being left out. "We don't really have a routine," she explains, trying to make sure that Beckett understands that her fears of betrayal haven't played out. "Except that he's usually there. But this morning, when I came out of the bedroom, he was gone."

Beckett looks distressed, but old habits kick in. "Any signs of a struggle? Were there any…"

"He left of his own accord," Kate interjects. "And he must've been sneaky about it, too, otherwise I would've noticed." When Beckett gives her another fierce look, she objects. "What? I worry!"

Rolling her eyes, Beckett cards a hand through her hair. "So, he must be crossing the other items off his list. What's he doing for you?"

"Working with his father to capture Bracken," Kate admits, looking sheepish.

"Capture… he's a senator! A presidential candidate!" Beckett cries out, standing and starting to pace. "And did you say his father? How did that maniac get involved?" When Kate looks down rather than answer, Beckett knows she's on the right track. "Well?"

"Rick reached out to him when we got back," she says vaguely. "It… didn't go well. Jackson thought someone was impersonating his son, so he, ah, interrogated Rick."

Beckett pales immediately and collapses back into her seat. "Do you have any idea what that man's capable of?" she asks, leaning forward onto her elbows. "Have you seen the results of his 'interrogations'? God, I was so terrified when Rick ran off to Paris, and it only got worse when I figured out later who he was working with."

"Wait," Kate interjects, "you weren't in Paris with him?"

"No," Beckett sighs, rubbing her temples with both hands. "He was gone before anyone knew what he was planning."

"So," Kate replies with a lifted brow, not gloating but still delivering her point with emphasis, "I'm not the only one who's lost him."

" _This_ is why I kept the Locksat investigation from him – this is who he is," Beckett growls, "which you'd know if you actually talked to him or listened to me! He's the biggest nurturer I've ever met. He protects people. He left for Paris because he needed to save Alexis shield me from the professional repercussions if I decided to leave with him. If he's done it again…," she pauses, lost in thought. "So, you met Jackson?" Beckett asks, the sudden question catching Kate off guard.

"Yes," Kate answers clearly. "After establishing Rick's identity, he released us and had us up for dinner. Where he and Rick conveniently ignored that he'd just beaten the hell out of his son," she rumbles, still upset about their reception.

"That's par for the course with that guy," Beckett mutters in reply. "You know how I met him? He was my lead suspect in a homicide case. Did Castle tell me who he was? Of course not. No, instead I go home and find Castle pulling a bullet out of my suspect – who also happens to be my father-in-law – while he's lying there bleeding on my goddamn side of the bed! Tell me, Captain, what you would've done in my place."

"I would've kicked his ass," Kate says, looking inward while nodding. "Then tossed the father in a cell, maybe after threatening the son with the same," she answers while coming back into focus and looking at Beckett. "Is that what you did?"

"No," Beckett admits, though she still wonders about what followed. "No, instead we got drawn into his plan. And you know how that worked out? With Castle isolated and at gunpoint. Jackson dangled him as bait to draw out the killer, then disappeared."

Noticing Kate's blanch at this description of Jackson's actions, she presses her point. "After not knowing him for forty years, Castle's only had a few interactions with his father, and _every single one of them_ has included him being held at gunpoint and other forms of mortal danger. And his father walks away from him afterward, _every time_. Do you think he's different where you come from? Are you willing to bet Castle's life on it?"

"No," Kate admits quietly, "that's why I'm here. I need your help to find him, to save him."

"You're damn right I'm going to save my husband, but there's one condition to hammer out before we go."

* * *

"You're really good at this," Alexis praises from her position in the rental car, hiding her laptop screens and communications gear behind tinted windows and the guileless persona of a UMD student. Watching Serena's progress through the combination earphone/camera headset, she's impressed by how quickly the ex-thief's been able to penetrate the outer defenses guarding the artifact.

"Thanks," Serena whispers, "nice to know a lifetime of training's come in handy. Still, the hard part's still ahead."

"We're still green on this end," Alexis says after a quick glance at the laptop that's tied into local security streams, the screen quartered to monitor campus security, local PD, private security, and local fire department feeds.

Alexis rubs her eyes and looks out the window at the darkened campus, desperately trying to stave off the migraine that's been nipping at the edges of her brain throughout the day's long surveillance. Stress is partially to blame of course, but that's mitigated by the adrenaline rush from their mission, now that they're finally in motion. It's easy to see how Hayley got addicted to this kind of thing, and she wonders if coaxing Serena into this case is like waving a drink at an alcoholic, or a murderer in front of Beckett.

No, the headache comes from watching the feed from Serena's headset. It's like watching her father play one of his beloved first-person-shooter video games. It's fine for him as the player, but as a spectator she ends up nauseous, not to mention terminally bored, if she watches for more than a few minutes.

Looking away from the screens gives her eyes a break but also makes her heart drop. "Oh, crap," she mutters, cursing their luck.

"What?" Serena whispers urgently into her headset. "Something wrong?"

"Yeah," Alexis grumps as she checks her reflection in the rearview mirror. "We overlooked something in our planning. Drunken college idiots. There're three of 'em testing the doors of the building. I'll go divert them before they attract the interest of campus security."

"Be careful, Alexis," Serena warns, "they could be dangerous and your father will kill me if anything happens to you."

"They're three scrawny guys trying to break into a _museum_ ," Alexis says with a roll of her eyes as she pops the top button on her blouse. "They probably want to ogle the statuary. ' _Heh, heh, heh – boobs_ ,'" she imitates in disdain.

"Still, be careful," Serena warns, though Alexis notes the video feed shows that Serena's moving again. "What're you gonna do?"

"Tease them with the possibility of the real thing, I guess," she answers in a frustrated huff before exiting the car, being careful to lock it securely. Then, grabbing a backpack from the trunk to help sell her role camouflage, she lifts the mantle of Martha Rodgers and girds for her performance.

"Oh, damn," she says dramatically from behind the three numbskulls who continue to pull on the door to the building as if it might suddenly unlock. Two of them emit frightened squeaks while the one tugging the door drops to his knees and says "It wasn't my idea!"

The 'men' goggle as they turn about, seeing a redheaded student all in black instead of the dreaded campus security. When it becomes apparent that they lack the collective intelligence to speak, Alexis continues to create the scene.

"I just needed a few more notes for my paper! And I wanted to go drinking tonight, too," she pouts, toeing the ground while biting on her lower lip. "You boys don't know anything about what's in there, do you?" she asks with wide eyes and a coy smile.

The two who squeaked don't even seem to be able to manage any sound now, petrified by the assertive woman before them. The door-tugger seems to have a little composure, managing a manly "um," in response to her query.

"Oh, well," Alexis says cheerily, "I tried to do my work. Now I can have some _fun_ ," she says with a wicked look. "But," she says as she sways over to the 'talkative' one, "I _hate_ drinking alone. You boys wanna join me?" she whispers, successfully rendering the last member of the trio mute.

"I like boys who can listen," she says with a tinkling laugh. "I need to go drop off my books and grab a friend. We'll meet you at the Thirsty Turtle in twenty minutes. You might want to go change," she says, nodding at their usual college-boy attire of jeans and sweatshirts. "Angela and I like our boys a little cleaned up," she tantalizes as she turns to walk away before looking over her shoulder for her parting shot. "Just don't wear anything _complicated_."

She's still swaying her hips about thirty yards away when she hears the boys slapping and tugging at each other in their efforts to secure a lead in the dash back to their dorm to change. About to congratulate herself, she emits her own squeak when she hears Serena's voice in her ear.

"Nicely done, PI Castle," Serena chuckles. "Did you leave the mic on for my benefit?"

"I desperately wish that was the case," Alexis groans. "Please don't tell dad about _any_ of that."

"My lips are sealed," Serena chuckles. "Can't violate the sisterhood and compromise one of our most effective tools. Now, get back to the car – I'm coming up to the tricky part."

Taking a quick look to make sure her admirers have scurried off, Alexis slings her pack back into the trunk and takes her position behind the wheel of the car, checking her screens to make sure everything is still operational.

"Okay, I'm back in position. Everything's still green," she updates, downing two more acetaminophen tablets to manage the headache. "Is that the security door?"

"Yeah," Serena replies, sounding focused. This is the last significant barrier between them and the artifact. Though it looks innocuous – mostly glass with an eight-inch framing around the edges – the door is the most formidable defense. Nearly all of the electronic security runs through or around this door. It has a fearsome combination lock, motion sensors, and trip-switches to alert the security desk about every time the door is jostled, much less opened. And, of course, there are three independent cameras focused on the outside of the door and another on the inside of the storage room. But if they can circumvent security here, the last few steps to the artifact are trivial.

"Cameras first," Serena mumbles, setting to work beneath the first camera. It takes several minutes, but when she's done it would take a trained eye to note that the wiring module on the wall just below the camera was a later addition. The wires run from this camera to the other two are more obtrusive, but they serve their purpose.

"Okay, record on my mark. Three, two, …," Serena goes silent before reaching one, even though the cameras don't record sound. After a minute, Alexis turns to the second laptop and does as Serena taught her.

"Done," Alexis says a few minutes later, having successfully fed the recorded video back to the cameras. As far as a watcher is concerned, nothing will look amiss from the external video feed. Now just the door remains.

Serena scuttles forward, again prompting some motion sickness for Alexis, but crouches low and to the side to avoid the internal camera. It's slow, painstaking work as she tries to rewire the combination lock that will give them access to the door, but not before she addresses the other electronics nested there, too. Alexis marvels at the tools that she sees through Serena's eyes, wires and electronics slowly making their way from the pockets in Serena's attire. And, somehow, she manages to work steadily and silently, unhampered by the gloves or mask she wears to protect her identity.

"Having problems," Serena whispers, alerting Alexis to a delay in the plan. Alexis, in turn, lets her partner know that all is otherwise well, so they have the time necessary to overcome whatever is causing problems at the door.

A tense five minutes pass with Alexis watching as Serena tries multiple ways to circumvent the door. Serena's a pro, so the setback doesn't rattle her, but Alexis grows increasingly agitated from her seat in the car. There's no timetable, exactly, other than needing to be gone before the morning shift arrives. But the longer they're there, the more likely it is that someone will happen upon them.

"Huh," Serena whispers again into the headset. "That should've worked." Alexis is disturbed by Serena's tone, which conveys respect and intrigue, not frustration. Apparently, Serena enjoys a challenge.

Just as Alexis watches Serena's hands move to try a different approach, there's a flash of light that whites-out the screen. Terrified that someone's arrived and flipped on the lights to overwhelm their low-illumination cameras, Alexis checks the security laptop again to confirm that everything's green. Her moment of relief is shattered when she turns back to the video feed as it comes back into resolution.

There, standing on the other side of the intransigent door, are two figures dressed in black and hooded. Working together, they move directly toward where the artifact is stored. Too shocked to speak to Serena, Alexis watches as the figures turn to face each other, with one partner reaching into a pocket to withdraw an artifact identical to the one Serena's trying to obtain.

"They're making a switch," Serena whispers. "There'll be nothing left for us but the fake!"

"I don't think that's what's happening," Alexis gulps in reply, watching in horror. After what looks like a quick conversation, there's another flash of light and the figure who pulled the "fake" artifact from a pocket is gone.

The remaining figure stands alone. Slowly, it turns and approaches the artifact, reaching out reverently until freezing in place just before making contact. Withdrawing the outstretched hand, the figure instead turns toward the door and offers a cheeky thumbs-up gesture to Serena, before waving, turning, and quickly removing the artifact. Another flash of light leaves the room empty.

If not for the cacophonous alarm set off by the artifact's removal, Alexis thinks they might have been frozen in shock for hours.

* * *

"Hello, Senator," Castle says as he places a worn wooden chair across from Senator Bracken, who is just struggling back to consciousness.

Head lolling loosely on his shoulders, Bracken is slow to realize his current circumstances. The bright lights arrayed on either side of Castle make it difficult for the Senator to see, especially as the sedative lingers in his system. But it's when he realizes that his wrists and ankles are secured that Bracken comes fully awake, masking his panic with aggression.

"What's going on?" Bracken growls. "Where am I? Do you have any idea who I am?"

Castle chuckles and the sheer incongruity of the sound catches Bracken short.

"You're Senator William Bracken," Castle answers the last question first. "And that's exactly why you're here. I know you well, Senator. Better than you can imagine."

"Who the hell are you?" Bracken spits in reply, struggling against his bonds.

In response, Castle slowly stands and turns off most of the lights obscuring the senator's vision. Doing so turns his back to the captive, who doesn't get a good look at his captor until Castle returns to his seat.

"Do I know you?" the Senator asks, clearly wracking his brain to come up with who this might be and why he's tied to a chair. "You look familiar. Have we met?"

"In a way," Castle replies with a grim chuckle. "Are you a reader? Perhaps you're aware of the Derrick Storm books?"

"You're Richard Castle!" Bracken answers, happy with his deduction until his look transforms to one of confusion. "But you're dead."

"Which is a pretty fantastic alibi," Castle says with a chuckle, reminding the senator of his current circumstances.

"People are going to come looking for me," Bracken promises. "I'm sure they already are."

"I'm unconcerned," Castle replies evenly. "We know all about your friends. And while they might be gifted on the whole assigned assassination front, they're not so great on search and rescue," Castle says blithely, watching his barb land before Bracken schools his features. "Besides, how long you're here depends on how quickly you talk. Tell us what we want to know and you're back in play by morning. Don't talk and things get painful," Castle says sadly. "Perhaps even deadly."

"You can't kill me," Bracken scoffs in response. "I'm a senator. A presidential candidate!"

"And you're being groomed by a group who overlook your past transgressions in order to place their man where he can be the most use to them. Yawn," Castle exaggerates his boredom. "I know all about it, Senator. I know about how you finance your operations, how your Super-PAC launders your money. I know about your lieutenants. I even know how you got the money to start your political career, back when you were a lowly ADA blackmailing dirty cops."

Bracken's political training serves him well as he refuses to acknowledge or discuss any of the topics Castle raised. "You've got nothing but raving fantasies. You're a hack, a cracked writer driven mad by failure."

"I am mad," Castle agrees, "as in _furious_ , not as in crazy. I'm mad that you've taken so much during your short, cancerous life. I'm mad that you've caused such lasting harm. And I'm mad that you don't seem to appreciate the seriousness of your situation," Castle summarizes.

Bracken looks undaunted, which Castle admits is a reasonable response. So, he decides, time to turn back to matters of more direct relevance to the Senator.

"Let's discuss your confidence that people are looking for you, are concerned about your welfare," Castle suggests conversationally. Standing again, he walks over to the workbench on which Kate found the newspaper she used in her vain attempt to lift prints from the handcuffs that bound them, back when they were the prisoners in this room. He returns with a thick folder, which he sets on his lap as he reclaims his seat.

"See this stack of documents?" Castle asks as he extracts the stack of papers from the folder. "Interesting reading. Would you like to see an example?" he asks as he plucks the infamous Locksat memo from the top of the pile and holds it in front of Bracken. When the senator's brows raise and jaw falls, Castle returns the paper to the stack.

"That's just a taste of what's in here," he says with a thump to the pile. "The papers look wet, don't they? Almost like they're leaking? If we spread these documents around some trusted media contacts and distrusted politicians, then everyone will figure that you skipped town. You'll be a historical footnote, the DB Cooper of the political set, residing next to Jimmy Hoffa in the American imagination," he promises. "The only people looking for you will be the ones assigned to plug a leak. Will that be Orantis Solutions, again, or someone else?"

"You've got a very inflated sense of yourself," Bracken replies, seemingly annoyed when Castle nods in agreement. "You're just a writer – a poor one at that – not some political power player. You don't have the resources or the stones to pull off the threats you're making. What is this, really? A shakedown? Good luck," the senator says with a laugh, "my allies don't deal kindly with threats."

"Funny you should mention that," Castle replies evenly, watching Bracken jolt as he registers the sudden presence of another person next to him. Without a word, Jackson reaches down and snaps Bracken's left little finger like a twig. As the senator cries out in pain, Jackson silently retreats into the shadows.

"It's important for you to realize, Senator, that you're not the only one with allies," Castle says softly, once Bracken's whimpering subsides. "You're not even the only one with friends in the CIA," Castle continues, driving his point home.

"You also need to realize that all of this," Castle says as he waves an arm around, gesturing wildly, "means nothing to me. Nothing that happens here is real to me, or lasting. I'm here long enough to collect the information I need, then I'm gone again, without the slightest concern about what I leave behind," he embellishes.

Bracken refuses to answer, anger replacing pain as he stares holes through Castle, his burning glare promising slow, torturous retribution.

"But the last thing you should realize," Castle says as he stands and walks to the workbench again, replacing the file and picking up a different object, "is that I'm not your enemy." Waiting for Bracken's growling, incredulous laugh to abate, Castle walks back to his chair but doesn't sit down. Instead, he places and old-fashioned clock in his seat, after setting the alarm and cocking the hammer that will strike the bells.

"I'm your friend, your father confessor," Castle explains in a quiet voice. "I'm the one who will ask questions, and I'm the one who'll know when you're lying. But my friend? He's the one who'll provide incentive for you to talk. I think you'll vastly prefer my visits to his."

Pausing to let his comments sink in, Castle watches the senator carefully. He might be stronger than he looks, Castle thinks, not looking forward to the night ahead.

"You were right, you know," Castle confesses as he begins to walk toward the stairs. "I'm just a writer. I'm not up for the gory stuff, even though to me you've earned a gruesome end and are, in fact, already gone. So, I'm going to excuse myself for the next bit. We'll talk again in fifteen minutes, Senator," Castle promises. "If you're able."

And with those last, ominous words, Castle fully turns his back on Bracken, entrusting him to Jackson's tender care.

* * *

AN2: Apologies for the delay on this chapter. I can claim an uptick in real life responsibilities on the home and work fronts, and that'd be true. But I'm also still a bit mournful about the direction of the show. Writing is actually a release, since it lets me remember the characters at their best, but I otherwise find my mind wandering to the potential premises for a Beckett-less season.

Now, some bad news.

● HOWE is not a nice story. It's intense and a little gritty, as seen in the last bit of this chapter. That's not my norm, but it's not going to change during this story. So, if that last bit turned you off, now might be the time you'd like to step away. If you can't take it but want to know how things end, send me a PM and I'll reply with a summary after the last chapter posts.

● I know where this is going after outlining the conclusion of the story. Let's just hope I write better than I count, though, since I skipped a chapter number when commenting on this earlier. If all goes to plan, there will be ten chapters, not eleven (although chapter nine looks like a potential monster, based on the outline).

● I received three emails last week from family, all variations of "good news, we're coming to visit!" That sacrificed last weekend to house repair and wipes out every-other weekend for the next six weeks. But I'll still find time to write


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. But my thanks to those who created them and let us play.

A/N: A reminder for the AU setup: "Beckett" refers to the character we all know, while "Kate" is how her AU twin is referenced. Like the show, Beckett usually thinks of her husband as Castle, while Kate thinks of him as Rick.

.

" _We'll talk again in fifteen minutes, Senator," Castle promises. "If you're able."_

 _And with those last, ominous words, Castle fully turns his back on Bracken, entrusting him to Jackson's tender care._

* * *

"Hello again, Senator," Castle greets genially as he stifles the clanging alarm and takes a seat, setting the clock on the floor next to him.

Bracken grunts in reply. It looks like Jackson's gone relatively easy on him at the start, limiting his efforts to the same type of reception Castle himself endured upon arrival. There are no more broken fingers, and the external damage seems minimal – split lips, bruises rising on cheeks, and labored breathing that suggests some abuse of the ribs. But the fury remains as Bracken glowers, refusing to greet Castle.

"Let me explain how this is going to work," Castle continues, outwardly unaffected by Bracken's reaction. "I'm going to ask questions. As long as you answer honestly, we'll keep talking. As soon as you lie to me or refuse to answer, our time ends and my associate gets another fifteen minutes with you."

"Do I get rewards for cooperating?" Bracken asks sarcastically.

"Sure," Castle replies cheerily. "You get a conversation with words rather than fists. So, let's start with a softball. What do they call this with the lie detector tests? Oh yeah, setting the baseline. Let's establish your baseline, Senator."

In the face of Castle's seeming interest in this process, Bracken just sighs and shakes his head.

"Who is Vulcan Simmons?" Castle asks, looking intently at his captive.

"Who? I have no idea," Bracken replies airily. "A character from _Star Trek_?"

Castle laughs in unexpected delight. "You know, that's almost good enough to earn a free pass," he chuckles. "But that wouldn't really help me establish a credible threat. So," he drawls out as he reaches down to retrieve the clock, taking his time to reset the alarm and cock the hammer back, "we'll try this again in fifteen minutes. Good luck, Senator."

* * *

"You okay"? Kate asks as she returns from the kitchen with a glass of ice water in hand for her visitor.

"Just a little weirded out," Beckett admits, walking around the room and examining the books and decorations. "My version of this apartment was blown up years ago when a serial killer tried to kill me. Scott Dunn – that's the case Castle mentioned. I lost almost everything," she recalls absently, wandering around and touching things to reconnect. She smirks to herself when she realizes that she's acting a bit like Castle, unable to stop touching everything she inspects.

"I've never heard of Scott Dunn," Kate confesses, "aside from the reference to 'the Dunn case.' I guess that Rick must've been involved somehow, since that's a difference between your world and mine."

"Dunn was obsessed with Nikki Heat," Beckett says, plucking a book from the shelf and noting that this version, too, has been signed by her husband. "He fixated on me as a result. Castle was horrified. I've seen him shoulder guilt many times, but that time… he was nearly inconsolable."

Kate reacts with a hum, surprised that Beckett seems willing to talk without taking her head off. "Did he help you find a new place?"

Beckett nods, lost in her recollections. "He took me in," she remembers wistfully. "Wouldn't take no for an answer – moved me into the extra room in his loft and pampered me as much as he could until I found a new place."

"Is that when you two…," Kate prods, suspecting that her question will bring out Beckett's possessive streak, but still curious.

"No," Beckett answers sadly, having moved on from the bookshelf to inspect some photos on the end table. "It should've been," she admits.

"So, what happened?" Kate pushes again, this time too hard.

"It doesn't matter," Beckett says as she spins in place, her head recalled from reminiscences and again focused on finding Castle. "What matters is getting him back. From the place he never should've been in the first place," she nearly growls while casting another fierce look at Kate.

"She says as if she's never made an impulsive decision she regretted," Kate fires back, getting a bit angry herself. "Or was that the segue from our last conversation – that you didn't get together with Rick after the Dunn case because of an impulsive mistake of your own?" she asks pointedly.

"We're _not_ talking about that," Beckett replies, unilaterally shutting down that topic. "What we're going to talk about is where Castle might be. Where has he gone since he's been here?"

"Besides here," Kate answers, rolling her eyes at Beckett's attitude but forging ahead for Rick's sake, "he's stayed two other places, but I don't know either one." Prompted by Beckett's look, Kate continues. "He stayed with his dad one night, after the interrogation. But I was unconscious when we were taken there and blindfolded for the return trip."

"And that didn't seem odd?" Beckett asks.

"Of course it was odd!" Kate fires back. "But are you really in a position to give me trouble about how our interactions with Rick's father have gone?" she asks, remembering Beckett's story about joining Jackson's plan rather than hauling him in as a murder suspect.

When Beckett remains silent and takes a seat on the couch, Kate returns to the topic. "The first night he was here, he walked out. He made it clear that he wasn't happy I'd pulled him here and wanted to consider the terms under which he'd cooperate. I think," she adds, noticing Beckett's proud smile, "that he also wanted to show me that he wasn't beholden to me, that he could operate in this reality on his own. When we met the next day, he was clean, reprovisioned, and in control."

"Good for him," Beckett answers. "He doesn't get that assertive unless he's really upset."

"And he was," Kate confirms. "I suspect you'll like the terms he set, too. He promised me two weeks of cooperation as long as there was no _nonsense_. He agreed to stay here," she says while gesturing to her apartment, "as long as he slept there," she finishes by pointing at the couch beneath Beckett.

"I'm surprised you accepted that," Beckett replies after a few moment's thought. "But you didn't, really, did you?" she surmises. "I know you – I'm sure you figured you could just wait him out, prepare for circumstances that would make him more receptive."

Kate thinks about denying the charge, but then shrugs. "Of course I did," she admits, to Beckett's surprise. " _But_ ," she interjects before Beckett can fully inflate in preparation for her verbal assault, "he's made his devotion to you clear. I just don't understand what you did to deserve it."

"Neither do I," Beckett admits quietly, surprising Kate with her unexpected candor.

"Any intentions of mine," Kate replies, quietly, "went out the window after we met his father. He was a harsh example, showing me exactly what I was doing, what I was risking, by bringing Rick here," she confesses. "That's what prompted me to offer the artifact to Rick," she says while pointing to her medallion on the coffee table.

"Well, he doesn't need yours anymore," Beckett replies tersely, rebounding from her quick bit of introspection while patting the pocket where the artifact obtained from the University of Maryland resides. "We'll find him, then I'm taking him back. Where you'd damn well better leave us alone."

"I'll give my artifact to Alexis," Kate offers, having been thinking about this since overhearing Rick's conversation with the Alexis who lost her father. "That way, she can visit when she needs a dad."

"Sure," Beckett replies, her face clearly showing her disbelief. "And you won't tag along to check up on Castle."

"Look, can we just stop fighting?" Kate fires back, anger warring with fatigue. "I've admitted my mistakes. I've mishandled this thing from the start, even from before I went back to talk to Rick," she admits heavily. "If _anyone_ should sympathize with how mom's case makes me act, it should be _you_."

Beckett looks a little uncomfortable at this reference, realizing only too well that she's the last person that can complain about obsession-affected decisions and the ramifications they have on others. She also realizes that Kate knows enough about Locksat and Beckett's manufactured separation from Castle to give a terribly pointed example, but exercised restraint instead.

"We know each other well," Kate pushes. "I'm not going to make a play for Rick – he needs to go back and I'll let him go. I'll _push_ him to go," she promises. "Better to lose him but know he's safe than to see him hurt here again. That's what you want, too, right? We should be completely united on this."

Beckett pauses, taking some time to collect her thoughts. Kate's efforts to make amends seem genuine, and they really could be a formidable team if they could truly work together. Maybe their innate knowledge of each other would lead to a more stable partnership than her failed efforts with Alexis and Serena.

"I don't know," Beckett temporizes. "I see some uncomfortable truths when I look at you, and I don't react well," she admits, reaching down to pluck some imaginary lint from her thigh to avoid any uncomfortable eye contact. "This was easier when we first met. You were so different from me that it was easy to dismiss you. But then your plan unraveled. You lied, and manipulated, and – when backed into a corner – reacted impulsively." Kate looks like she's going to object, either to plead her case anew or to have a go at Beckett for ruining their chance at cooperation, until a raised hand forestalls her.

"Don't you see?" Beckett asks tiredly. "I'm not criticizing. You started as a fun-house mirror – my reflection was so distorted that I could ignore it. But, it turns out that wasn't the case. Seeing those traits in you made me see clearly – maybe for the first time since mom died – exactly how I act, how I treat people. It was humbling."

"Will it stop us from working together?" Kate asks, after taking several moments to think about what Beckett's insight means for her, too.

"No," Beckett replies, bracingly. "You're right. This should be about Castle, and the best chance of getting him back in one piece is to work together. And, as uncomfortable as it might be, spending time with you will probably be good for me."

"Gee, thanks," Kate replies with an eye roll. "You make me sound like a revolting medicine. But, I understand where you're coming from," she says with a smile of her own. "The feeling's mutual."

Beckett harrumphs, but there's no denying that mood is lighter than it was when they sat down. "So," she asks, turning to their task. "How did Castle find his father?"

"Email," Kate answers promptly. "He sent a weird message to a general account at the CIA – something about Volkov – and we were grabbed the next morning."

"Doesn't sound like we can follow the same path," Beckett admits, releasing a breath in frustration while Kate shakes her head. "And you don't know how to get back to where you met Jackson?" she asks, knowing the answer.

"No," Kate answers sadly, watching Beckett stand and start pacing. "I wish I could. I've been turning myself inside out trying to figure out how to find Rick. I mean, he's not from here, right? He should stick out, be easy to find. But everything I've thought of has gotten nowhere. That's why I came to you."

"We could try the loft, the Hamptons house, friends, all that," Beckett allows, "but it doesn't sound like that's where he'd be. He must be with Jackson, wherever _he_ is," she thinks aloud as she moves around the room, moving toward a window. "No, we need to think about more extreme options."

Kate watches as Beckett stands in front of the window, each hand holding onto the curtains as if holding the reins on a horse. As she stares out, Beckett releases her grip and instead reaches into her pocket. She withdraws not the artifact, but the wallet containing her badge. Reaching behind the badge, she extracts a small, folded paper card.

"It looks," Beckett says from her position at the window, "like your curtains need a cleaning. _That's_ how we'll find Castle."

Kate watches Beckett dial her phone before shaking it in frustration when it doesn't work. "Pancakes. Volkov. Handshakes. Curtains," Kate rattles off as she unlocks her phone and hands it to Beckett. "Do you guys only speak in code?"

* * *

"Hello again, Senator," Castle says pleasantly as he silences his the alarm clock, again taking its place in the chair while setting the clock on the floor at his side. It's his fifth time repeating the move, having greeted Bracken the same way at each visit.

"Stop - saying - that!" Bracken moans, clearly still trying to maintain his composure but rapidly losing the battle. He's decidedly worse off now than when he first awoke. Naked from the waist up, his torso is a mess of bruises and scrapes. And while Jackson seems to be trying to shelter him from the more gruesome aspects of the 'interrogation,' Castle recognizes the evidence of electrical leads nearby. Bracken's finger remains the only obvious fracture, though it's likely by now that at least some ribs can be added to the tally, along with other internal injuries that might not include bones but throb in pain nonetheless.

Bracken's also looking decidedly exhausted. Try as he might, Castle couldn't quite manage the cruelty he suspects is deeply ingrained in his father's psyche, opting not to eat in front of the senator. But he doubts that Jackson's efforts in the kitchen during Castle's time with Bracken are coincidental. The aromas that waft down from the kitchen are enticing to Castle, who is not in a state of duress. They must represent an additional form of torture for Bracken.

"I'm hoping we can build on the progress we've made so far," Castle replies, focusing on the questions that actually started eliciting answers during his last visit. "Now that you've answered the questions honestly, I can tell you that Roy and I were once good friends." Bracken looks up at this, surprised at this unknown connection. "I understand that he's made some curious choices; maybe I'll need to talk to him about some of those," Castle speculates, remembering the Montgomery is still alive in this reality. "But now it's time to talk about how the mafia ransom scheme came to an end. Tell me, Senator, who killed FBI agent Bob Armen?"

For a brief instant, Bracken looks like he won't answer. He speaks quickly, though, after his eyes glance back at the clock.

"Joe Pulgatti," he moans. "Joe Pulgatti killed Armen."

With a tsk-ing noise, Castle moves his arm so that his hand hovers ominously over the clock. "Perhaps that was a poorly-worded question. I did not ask, Senator, who was _convicted_ of killing Bob Armen," Castle clarifies, and in so doing makes it clear to Bracken that he knows the answer to his question, "but instead who _actually_ killed him."

"Montgomery," Bracken whispers in reply. "It was Montgomery."

"Yes, it was," Castle agrees as if praising a student for guessing the right answer. "But poor Pulgatti got railroaded, didn't he? Sent away for a murder he didn't commit. And all his early appeals were torpedoed, too," Castle narrates sadly. "But then – a ray of hope. A new attorney started helping Pulgatti and things started looking up for him, didn't they? His new attorney, Senator, what was her name?"

Bracken hesitates again, unwilling to continue. Until Castle's hand again moves towards the clock.

"It was Beckett, Johanna Beckett," he says quickly, sighing in relief as Castle's hand stops its movement toward the clock.

"Yes, it was," Castle repeats, continuing to create a consistent script to help guide Bracken through these sessions. "And what happened to Johanna Beckett, Senator?"

"She died," he answers without reservation.

"How?" Castle asks simply.

"Mugged," Bracken answers. "Gang violence."

"Oh, Senator," Castle says, shaking his head. "I thought we were making progress. Perhaps we'll do better in fifteen minutes."

"No!" Bracken screams, his eyes not glaring at Castle but instead bulging at the clock that's again being reset. "It was Coonan!" he cries out as Castle stands and places the clock on the chair, ignoring the senator's desperate shouts. "It was Coonan…," Bracken again cries out as Castle moves toward the stairs, "but I told him to do it," he whimpers. Tears of fear and relief mingle as Castle stops at the bottom of the stairs and turns back to face the senator.

"Yes, it was," Castle acknowledges sadly. "Perhaps you should think about that, and about answering more promptly, until we next speak, Senator," Castle says as he turns back to the stairs and departs, doing his best to ignore the howling madman he leaves strapped to the chair.

* * *

A knock on the window of the rental car sends Alexis' heart into her throat. Peering over the console, she sees Serena waiting casually for the door to be unlocked. She's changed into casual clothes, including a university sweatshirt emblazoned with the UMD mascot – a black and red terrapin captioned with "Fear the Turtle!" – that looks utterly ridiculous on the woman who usually dresses like a model.

Levering herself into the passenger seat, Serena releases a long, slow breath as the door closes and she can finally relax. "Any problems getting here?" she asks with her eyes closed and head leaning heavily on the headrest.

"No," Alexis answers. Sure, she'd been terrified, worried about making it here to the parking structure behind the aquatic center or that a random sweep by campus security would find her sleeping in the car. And it was a fitful sleep, worrying about Serena's ability to make it to their back-up rendezvous location. "I did okay. How about you?"

"It was a closer shave than I'd like to admit, given that we're on a public college campus and not a prestigious museum or the home gallery of a wealthy collector, but I'll just focus on the positive," Serena says, eyes still closed. "Faking the ID was a good call – I slipped into the athletic center and had the opportunity to unwind, shower, change, and let things settle down. Still," she adds crossly, "I'm not happy about leaving some of our equipment behind."

"What about the other stuff?" Alexis asks, still wondering about Serena's odd reaction to the alarm. Instead of running like hell, Serena breached the door and loaded her duffle bag with other items from the vault before bolting with only a few minutes to spare.

"If your artifact was the only thing missing," Serena explains, "then we'd have even more trouble. A cursory look at the artifact's history would point back to your father, even if his wife hadn't called about it recently. Trust me," Serena chuckles, "if I were the investigator working this case, I'd zero in quickly on Rick – a wealthy man who has a history with the item, a reputation of being slightly eccentric, and an established penchant for investing in collectibles? He'd definitely warrant a look. And if he were missing without explanation after the heist? That doesn't look good. But don't worry, we can let the other pieces drift back. I know people," she finishes vaguely.

Paling at her failure to anticipate that wrinkle, Alexis sends a quick prayer skyward. "Thank you," she says thickly, the emotion in her voice finally enough to get Serena to exert the energy to prop open one eye.

"Part of the job, kid," she says with a short laugh, "it's why you hired me. Although," she flinches, letting her eye drift closed, "I guess the job's done. The artifact's gone, and wherever it is, I don't think we can get to it."

"That was Beckett, right?" Alexis tests out her theory about what happened to the artifact. "There's no other answer that makes sense, especially not with the gestures to you," she thinks aloud, getting an affirmative grunt in reply.

"Yes, it must've been Captain Beckett," Serena agrees. "Both of them, I guess," she says with another huff.

"So, they're working together now?" Alexis continues to think aloud. "That can't be good."

"No, it's not good," Serena agrees. "They each have an artifact and we can't get to either one of them."

"Yeah, but that's not what I was talking about," Alexis admits. "You didn't see them, but they did not get along _at all_. Something big must've happened to get them to work together."

"Your father," Serena surmises, opening her eyes to see Alexis' nod.

"It's got to be, right?" the young woman laments. "Nothing else makes sense."

"But why take our artifact?" Serena asks, before she tries to answer her own question. "Just to slow us down?"

"That's probably a bonus," Alexis admits, regretting her decision to ditch her father's wife back in New York. "But, knowing Beckett, she wanted control. She'd need to make sure she had her own way back before leaving with Kate."

"Which brings us back to the fundamental problem," Serena agrees. "There are two artifacts – the one from here and the one from there – but now they're together over there. There's nothing we can do."

"But it'll come back," Alexis says. "If I can trust Beckett to do anything, it's to be a badass cop. She'll get dad and she'll bring him back, by the scruff of his neck if need be. I still want you to recover the artifact, if you're willing to stay," she explains, a tone of desperation in her voice. "We just need to figure out where they'll come back."

* * *

"Hello again, Senator," Castle says as he picks up the clock and transfers it to the floor as he takes his seat.

"No more," Bracken replies, causing Castle to wonder if there's a word that captures the sound he just heard, something that combines a whisper, a moan, a plea, and a promise.

Bracken is a mess. His face is mottled and bleeding, one eye completely swollen shut. He's been stripped naked, and a few pails of cold water might've revived the senator but they haven't completely removed the stench from his inability to control himself during Jackson's session. His nose is clearly broken, as are some additional digits on his hands and feet.

"Please," the senator begs, "please. I told you everything. Please don't leave again."

"Yes, you have," Castle agrees. "I've been doing some research during our break, Senator, and I agree. I think you've told me almost everything," Castle says, noting the way that Bracken's posture seems to collapse at his reference to 'almost everything.' "I just have one last question for you."

"I'll tell you," the broken man replies. "I'll tell you anything. Anything."

"Where should we drop you off?" Castle asks, watching as Bracken tries and fails to comprehend the question.

"I'll answer!" the senator promises quickly, lest Castle mistakenly think that he's being evasive. "Just… what…"

"Where would you like us to take you, Senator?" Castle asks again.

"I can go?" Bracken asks in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean," Castle explains gently, "is that we'd already leaked the documents before you and I had our first talk. But I'd adjusted them slightly, implicating your partner," Castle explains as the blood drains from Bracken's face and he emits a low, strangled moan. "So, I expect there are three groups of people searching desperately for you: law enforcement – headed by the 12th precinct, I'd bet; your partner's associates; and the media. Would you prefer that we drop you off with one of them, or somewhere else?"

This last question seems to have finally and irrevocably broken Bracken. He sits before Castle utterly mute, looking dazed, and apparently unresponsive.

"Why don't you give it some thought?" Castle suggests as he stands. "I'll check back in fifteen minutes." This time, though, Castle doesn't reset the clock as he departs. And Bracken doesn't make a sound.

* * *

When Castle returns fifteen minutes later, Jackson is straightening up the area, already having cleaned the body of the deceased senator.

"Is that what he wanted?" he asks his father. "Was that his choice of how to leave?"

"Does it matter?" Jackson replies, not bothering to look up from his cleaning tasks.

"It does to me," Castle admits, wondering yet again how dark his soul has been stained by what happened in this room.

"Then sure," Jackson answers, his flippancy instantly eroding the credibility of his answer. "This's what he wanted."

Castle remains silent and forces himself to stare at the broken remains of the man who was the dragon. In death, he doesn't look so fierce. He seems smaller, more frail, more human.

"People are binary, son," Jackson interjects, getting a confused look from his son. "You're standing there torturing yourself, wondering if there was some point at which we could've stopped, where he would've seen the error of his ways and we could've released a reformed man on the world."

Castle remains quiet, unwilling to admit that this is exactly what he was thinking.

"It doesn't work that way. Not with men like him, anyway," Jackson says. "They're good or they're bad – no in-between. Regardless of how wounded, if we let him go while he was still alive, he wouldn't change. 'Cept maybe to get worse. This was always the way it had to end."

Castle nods, mostly to get his dad to stop talking. Intellectually, he knew Bracken was dead. If not in this room, then somewhere else. He enemies are too numerous, too influential, and he was too big a liability. But emotionally, Castle doesn't know that he's cut out for this kind of work. He's always prided himself on protecting his loved ones at all costs, and he still will. He'd just never really considered the lingering effects of such a terribly high cost.

"Buck up, son," Jackson says with a slap to Castle's shoulder, "and grab his feet. We need to drop him off and then finish this."

* * *

AN2: This chapter arrives early due to the dubious reliability and safety of the DC Metro system. Being stuck in a tunnel while a station tried to figure out what was on fire provided some extra writing time.

Many thanks for the reviews and comments. I reply to those I can, but to others who log in as guests or don't have PM, many thanks. Especially for pointing out embarrassing errors, like referencing actors instead of thieves!


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. But my thanks to those who created them and let us play.

A/N: A reminder for the AU setup: "Beckett" refers to the character we all know, while "Kate" is how her AU twin is referenced. Like the show, Beckett usually thinks of her husband as Castle, while Kate thinks of him as Rick.

In addition to borrowing the characters (and their duplicates), I've borrowed some text from two episodes. You'll recognize the lines.

.

* * *

"Not to be nosy," Castle says as they jump back in Jackson's SUV, "but what were you doing with him?" he asks, wondering why his father had crouched over Bracken's body.

"You've done it all wrong, Richard," Jackson offers in lieu of an answer. "You and your wife. The key to something like this is exposure, not confrontation."

"And that answers my question how?" Castle asks in confusion rather than sarcasm. It was a long, horrible night that's left him rocked on his foundation. He's not thinking clearly, he knows, but he's fearful of the sleep that he's sure will be haunted, if it arrives at all.

"They'll know it's Bracken shortly after finding the body," Jackson offers, watching the road carefully as he navigates through a preplanned route known to be free of traffic cameras. "But I provided enough evidence for them to know that something bigger's going on. Then there'll be blood in the water."

Castle ponders this statement for a bit before assuring himself that it really doesn't make sense. "Sorry," he says to his father, "but I'm kind of new to this whole covert black ops thing," he says with a hand-wave. "I'm not tracking very well. What do you mean?"

"For how long," Jackson asks, seemingly not put off by Castle's slow tracking or glib tone, "did you and your wife pursue Bracken? Years, right? Even after you knew it was him, it still took years."

"It's not like we were sitting around," Castle replies defensively. "I think we did pretty well, considering," he says, though he knows he's being charitable given how close Bracken came to killing Beckett – several times – and what would've happened had they not found the tape at the right moment.

"Let me try this another way," Jackson suggests, still focused on the road. "Why did your buddy Montgomery and the others start kidnapping mobsters? Besides greed."

"Frustration, I guess," Castle ponders. "Regardless of how quickly they arrested those guys, they were back on the street the next day. Or the bosses just found someone new to take their places."

"Exactly," Jackson replies. "This is the frustration of law enforcement, whether domestic or foreign," he says, tapping on his chest. "It never ends – deal with one threat and another pops up. The trick," Jackson says, returning to his point, "is getting the bad guys to do your work for you. The whole time you were targeting Bracken, others knew about him, right? Simmons, his partner, Orantis, who knows who else."

"It was a conspiracy, yeah," Castle agrees, still missing the point.

"Which is an inherently weak power structure, from within as well as without," Jackson explains. "What would've happened if Simmons thought Bracken was going to turn him in, or cut him out? What would've happened if Simmons started peddling his smack in the Westies' territory?"

"A bloodbath," Castle speculates. "These guys don't seem big on mediation and amicable conflict resolution."

"Right," Jackson agrees. "There's always someone else looking for opportunity, looking for weakness. You want somebody _gone_ ," he says with a disturbing tone of finality, "you make then look weak, expose them to other predators. Like we did with those documents of yours. Like we did with Bracken's body. The heat's on your Locksat bogeyman now. And the chances are he'll be dead long before law enforcement finds him."

"But that's just… expediency," Castle struggles to find the words. "That's not justice."

"It's poetic justice," his father replies, cocking a brow to suggest that this should appeal to a writer. "True, he won't be locked up like an animal and there won't be visiting hours. But he'll be _gone_. And the risk that he'll escape on a legal technicality, or continue operations from some Club Fed detention facility, is also gone. Is it expedient?" Jackson asks rhetorically. "Sure. But it's effective."

"I don't know if I can do it," Castle admits, still troubled by the events of the last several hours. "I already feel out of control, and that seems like willful disregard of a bedrock principle that separates the good guys from the bad."

"I think you'll find," Jackson replies, sounding slightly offended, "that it's really the difference between justice in theory and justice in practice. Besides, you're overlooking the biggest advantage," he baits, waiting until he's got Castle's full attention. "Say we do things my way, and it doesn't work – the bad guy survives the attack. Now what? He targets his rivals to seek vengeance. But if you go directly at someone – like your wife did with Bracken – you're exposed. They know how to hurt you and they can take their time doing it."

That comment hits home. Castle wonders, for a while, how much different things might've been if Bracken hadn't known they were onto him. It's more evidence of his fatigue that it takes him several long moments to realize that's the situation they enjoy now for the man they've called Locksat.

"You know his name, Richard," Jackson quietly interrupts Castle's thoughts. "You know how to cause his associates to turn on him. Take the information we gathered from Bracken and consider what we'll do here as a dry run for what you can do back at home," he suggests. "Just sit back and take notes."

Castle's still pondering this advice when Jackson steers them into a residential area, turning into an alley and driving directly into a private, enclosed garage at the ground-level of a townhouse. With the garage door closing even as the SUV enters the garage, Castle has the disturbing feeling they're being swallowed.

"Another safehouse?" he asks as Jackson works through the series of locks to admit their entry.

"Nope, this is actually a place of mine," he answers as he ushers his son inside and turns on the lights. He needn't have bothered – the rooms are mostly vacant. And the townhouse smells musty from disuse.

Jackson leads his son to the kitchen before opening the refrigerator and pulling out a beer. Castle shakes his head at the offer of a drink, so Jackson just shrugs and pops the top on a second beer for himself. "You sure? It'll help you sleep," he offers again, and again Castle demurs. He knows he'll sleep horribly regardless, and turning to alcohol now seems likely to create even more problems.

"So, what's the plan?" Castle asks, trying to rub the fatigue, and gruesome afterimages, from his eyes. "We get some sleep then figure out how to proceed?"

"Yep," Jackson answers while setting the already-empty bottle in the sink. "Six hours. You need four to function, but I think you've got some tossing and turning ahead of you," he predicts, not seeming to be overly concerned about Castle's dark rite of passage.

"Alright," Castle allows, "but I'm not sure we should go it alone. I should tell Kate what's going on," he says, earning a look of disappointment from his father. "And if your wife is anything like mine, she won't appreciate being kept out of the loop."

Jackson looks like he wants to argue, but he stops himself. Either he sees the wisdom of Castle's words, he's banking the conversation for later, or he's unwilling to address it before getting some rest. "Maybe," he allows. "Let's talk about it after some sleep."

Knowing he's being put off but admitting that he should be in better shape for the call, Castle makes a noncommittal noise and follows Jackson, who's leading to a stairwell. "This is me," he says, pointing to a master bedroom. When Castle turns towards the other door, Jackson chuckles. "Nope, that's the command center. You're at the top of the stairs. There's a cot and blankets in the closet," he offers less than solicitously before walking into his room and leaving Castle behind.

After a slow trudge up the stairs, Castle finds himself in an empty room. Unimpressed by the spartan lifestyle of a spy, he goes about setting up the cot. Maybe, he thinks as he buries himself in blankets, enough heat will burn away some of my sins. It's a terribly maudlin thought, and one that doesn't encourage happy dreams. Picking up and powering on his phone, he feels the momentary thrill of disobeying his father. He sends a quick text message before turning his phone off and testing whether his conscience will let him sleep.

* * *

Beckett, too, had expected a night of fitful sleep. Her couch was never especially comfortable, and being surrounded by beloved but lost relics of her past put her in a melancholy mood. Combined with the already-stressful situation, it's no surprise that last night's weird dreams are rivaled only by those she suffered when heavily medicated after her shooting.

But, while she expected a restless night, she didn't expect to wake up looking at the business end of a suppressor.

"Good morning," Rita offers from her perch on the chair across the couch. Feigning exasperation, Beckett lets out a sigh and shoves her head into her pillow, feeling the bulky weight of her weapon beneath it. Talking is still the best option, but she's heartened to know that she's got an option if this goes south.

"Mornin'," Beckett replies casually, before sitting up and stretching, releasing a fearsome yawn. "Don't suppose you brought coffee?"

"I'm a cleaner," Rita replies, looking somewhat annoyed but also surprised by Beckett's lack of fear, "not a delivery service."

"It was worth a shot," Beckett answers with a shrug. "We need to talk, and to do that, I need some caffeine. Make you a cup?"

Bewildered by how her arrival is turning out, Rita blinks at the kind request. "Hold on," she says, trying to regain control of the situation. "Who the hell are you? How did you know how to contact me?"

"Alright," Beckett answers with a smile, "but you'll wish you had some caffeine for this. I'm your step-daughter-in-law," she explains to Rita's blank look. "Kind of."

Rita's just furrowing her brow at this unexpected answer when Kate rounds the corner, weapon trained on Rita.

"So is she," Beckett says with a laugh, pulling out her gun from beneath the pillow but leaving it on her lap. "How about this? We all lower the weapons and just talk. We don't have a lot of time."

"Sounds good to me," Kate replies, lowering her piece as Rita does the same. "As long as I can have some coffee, first."

"What the hell is going on?" Rita mumbles, before rising to follow the other women into the kitchen.

"Jackson can tell you the full story," Beckett explains while Kate starts working with the coffee machine. "But here's the summary. Rick Castle, Jackson's son, isn't dead. He has information that'll lead to the identification of the man you've been hunting for so long," she says, watching Rita perk up. "But to get to him, they need to go through his partner."

"That wouldn't happen to be William Bracken, would it?" Rita asks, her sense of equilibrium restored as the twin coffee addicts in front of her both reel back in surprise.

"How did you know about Bracken?" Kate asks, before Beckett can find her words.

"You two sleep too much," Rita says, pulling out her phone. After surfing briefly, she places the phone down on the table after pulling up a broadcast news site, where the lead story (complete with a crawl at the bottom of the screen that provides surprisingly graphic details) is the discovery of the body of Senator William Bracken. Not only was he tortured, the anchors discuss with barely-concealed and deeply disturbing glee at sharing such a gruesome story, but his clothes included heavy traces of illegal narcotics and evidence found on his body indicates that Bracken was specifically targeted by a rival. The coy manner in which the lead investigator refuses to talk about leads clearly reveals that he thinks they have strong evidence to pursue, and his smile shows that he can hardly wait for the cameras to turn off so that he can pursue the evidence and secure an even larger stage after breaking the case.

"That was quick," Beckett marvels, feeling a strange churning in her gut as she thinks about Bracken again, about how he was walking around free in this reality. That thought makes her think about Kate, who's turned back to the coffee machine. Her face might not be visible, but her lowered head and slight hitch in her breathing belie the tears that course down her obscured cheeks.

Feeling oddly awkward about comforting herself, Beckett takes a few steps towards the counter, stopping next to Kate before reaching out and rubbing her back gently. Kate's head droops against Beckett's shoulder and her posture seems to relax under Beckett's touch.

"Everything okay?" Rita asks, recognizing the power of the moment but curious about its foundation.

"Bracken," Beckett says after a moment of thinking how to phrase her response, "killed our mothers. We've been hunting him since 1999."

Rita nods, then takes a seat at the kitchen table to offer the ladies a small measure of privacy. Within minutes, Kate's absorbed the news and regained most of her composure and Beckett's served the coffee.

"Not to be insensitive," Rita ventures after a sip. "But what's going on here? How did you get the code to contact me?"

"You gave it to me," Beckett replies before closing her eyes to cherish a sip of aromatic wakefulness.

"I don't know you," Rita objects, certain in her conclusion.

"True," Beckett allows, "but I know you. You saved my life when the man you're hunting killed my team."

With her non-coffee hand creeping toward her gun, Rita objects. "Pretty sure I'd remember that. Just like," she says as she again raises her weapon, "I'm pretty sure Rick Castle is dead. Jackson might've been away when it happened, but I wasn't. I know he died and I know we buried him."

"Only here," Beckett replies, still unaffected by the reappearance of Rita's weapon. "Jackson will confirm this – in fact, the reason we reached out to you was to find him quickly before this whole situation explodes. But I'm not from around here. Neither is my husband, Castle. I'm only here long enough to find him and get out before something else goes wrong."

"You're not making any sense," Rita replies, looking annoyed. "From where I'm sitting, you're an unknown security risk spouting nonsense while asking to be led to a covert operative," she summarizes. "That's not a very safe approach to our meeting."

"Last year, Castle found a tool that allows for interdimensional travel," Kate offers conversationally from her chair, speaking freely and getting the attention of Rita's weapon as a result. "He visited here – accidentally – and enlisted my help to get back. Before he left, he shared information that led me to Bracken. When it wasn't sufficient to prosecute, I went back to get his help. It turns out that Bracken has a partner – the CIA agent you've been hunting. I brought Castle here to help me with Bracken, but lost track of him when he joined up with your husband, who wants to go through Bracken to get to his partner. I went back to get Kate to ask for her help in tracking him down."

The story, when stated so baldly, is utterly ridiculous. Rita looks flummoxed, not certain what to do when faced with this _folie à deux_. She's still trying to decide when Kate speaks up again.

"The first thing Rick did when he arrived was to reach out to your husband," she mentions. "He mentioned Volkov to capture Jackson's attention," she explains, noting that Rita's demeanor turned fierce at the reference. "Within hours we were grabbed and detained. Jackson thought Rick was an imposter. Trust me," she says with a grim laugh, "if your husband wasn't _completely_ convinced of Rick's identity, we wouldn't be alive to tell you this story."

"So," Rita says slowly, standing and backing away from the table so that she has a clear line-of-sight to either woman, "Rick and Jackson are off hunting? Sorry, but Jackson's not one to take in strays. He does his best work alone, and he's not especially trusting."

"Trust me, I know," Beckett replies with a bite, earning a glare from Rita. But it's Kate who salvages the conversation before things get out of hand.

"I think they're kindred spirits," she offers, speaking as if she's thinking out loud since both Beckett and Rita are likely to take offense at what she has to say. "Both married strong women who have invested more attention in pursuing their obsessions than they have on their husbands," she says, watching both women flush and grow angry. "And now they've met, each with some of the information or skills necessary to end those quests. Is it really surprising," she drives her point home while she still can, "that they're trying to do what they think will help them regain the attention of the women they love?"

Her question seems to defuse the situation slightly, leading Beckett and Rita to think about the efforts their husbands might endure on their behalves, and turn to each other only to see shared belief. Unfortunately, Kate's theory sounds all too likely.

"You're probably right," Beckett admits with a sigh, watching Rita nod. "I can see Castle doing this."

"Jackson, too," Rita allows.

"But they shouldn't be doing it alone," Kate replies to them both. "Which is why we need to find them."

"I appreciate that I'm not a police officer," Rita says with a lifted brow, deliberately not providing information on what she does do, "but did either of you think about calling your husband?"

"Of course I did," Kate replies. "Before I asked for Beckett's help and after."

"Since Bracken's body was found?" Rita presses, forcing a wince from Kate.

"I'll go get my phone," she grumbles. "For some reason I was distracted when I woke up," she offers while throwing Rita a soft glare, getting only a smirk in reply.

She's back in moments, handing her phone to Beckett. "Castle texted two hours ago. He said ' _We're okay, just tired. I'll call after I get some sleep. Stay safe_.'"

"Try to call him," Rita suggests again. Kate nods to Beckett, who dials the number from which the text arrived.

"Straight to voicemail," Beckett sighs, hanging up before leaving a message.

"Go change," Rita directs, surprising them both. "Look, you know your husband, I know mine. If they're bedding down, that means they're resting before planning the next push. Jackson's going to want to want to be in his element for that. I think I know where he'd go," she speculates. "We'll keep calling, in case I'm wrong, but this gives us something to do. So, get moving before I change my mind about taking in strays of my own."

Kate shoots Beckett a look which she interprets easily – odd to have that kind of connection with someone other than Castle – one of them will stay with Rita at all times, just to make sure they don't get ditched. So, Beckett chats with Rita while raiding the fridge for any food they can take along. Shaking her head in dismay, she allows that Castle's comments about her poor eating habits while single apply to Kate, too. Still, stale bagels and cream cheese of questionable vintage will still help stop the coffee from burning through their stomach lining. Kate manages to find some other snacks while Beckett changes, borrowing some clothes from her other self when it's clear that what she packed for Maryland proves too light for the dreary weather outside.

Fifteen minutes after Rita's comment, they're in her van and heading uptown. There's not much conversation, but the mood isn't tense. Kate tried Castle's phone again, with no luck, but that's not much of a surprise. The news radio keeps providing updates about the Bracken homicide, but there haven't been any new developments, just new ways to package the information in increasingly exploitative ways.

"Rita," Kate says from the passenger seat in front, "you don't have a partner, do you?"

"Only when the op calls for it," she answers generally as she navigates through traffic.

"Is this one of those ops?" Kate asks, the sense of unease in her voice catching more attention than her question. "Black sedan, tinted windows, one lane over and a few cars back."

"Not mine," Rita answers. She's wary, but not tense, apparently not unfamiliar with this situation. "Let's see if we have a follower," she says aloud as she smiles and prepares for a cat-and-mouse drive through the streets of New York City.

It's a ridiculous, low-speed chase that ensues, almost a polite impersonation of something from a movie. Rita would, while complying with all traffic laws, manage to slip away from the sedan. But then, while driving with similar caution, the sedan would manage to reacquire them. What at first started as a lark for Rita has grown into an annoyance.

"I think I'm going to stop being so subtle about this," she says in annoyance, planning a route in her head. Kate and Beckett nod, deferring to her expertise while providing extra vigilance. A few bootleg turns and speeding forays through deep-orange lights manages to provide a lead that the sedan can't match.

"There," Rita says in satisfaction. "Any word from our unruly boys?" she asks, prompting Kate to call again, with no success. Beckett pulls out her phone, too, not that it works here. She pulls up the last text she sent to Castle, the one in which she encouraged him to follow his heart, whether that led him to stay with her or leave with Kate. Unwilling to let that be her last text to him, she starts typing.

* * *

"Get any sleep?" Jackson asks nonchalantly as his befuddled and disheveled son trips down the stairs. Jackson's sitting in his "command center," which is really just an office with a desk and a wall of security camera monitors. He's got reading glasses on and is scratching notes on a legal pad, but tosses down his pen as Castle enters the room.

"A bit," Castle rumbles while rubbing his face. "Don't suppose you have any coffee, do you?"

"Sure," his father answers with a grim chuckle, standing and leading Castle back to the stairs and down to the kitchen. "Which pep talk do you want," he asks, "the ' _it gets easier_ ' talk or the ' _it had to be done, the world's a better place, and good men like you need to step up to protect others_ ' speech?"

"I sure as hell hope it doesn't get easier, and that I don't test that theory," Castle replies as he plucks a mug from a cabinet and reaches for the coffee pot. "Maybe I'll just hope the world – both worlds – are better off for what I've done and that I never have to do anything like that again."

"Fair enough," Jackson answers, not bothered by any philosophical navel-gazing of his own. "So," he says as he claps his hands and rubs them together to signal his move to a new topic, "you ready for phase two?"

"Almost," Castle answers before taking a deep, scalding draught from his mug. "Just need about two more pots of coffee," he gasps, "and backup."

"We don't need backup," Jackson disagrees. "We're not even getting dirty yet. Just some judicious calls and low-key visits to stir the pot," he says with a casual wave of his hand. "Piece of cake."

"I'm pretty sure I've never really understood any of the women I've loved," Castle offers while staring at the black surface of his drink as if divining some deep truth, "but I know enough to know that your wife is going to be justifiably hurt if you keep her out of the loop on this."

"Like you did with Bracken?" he asks with a raised brow, a bit angry and unused to having his plans challenged.

"She's not my wife," Castle replies, before lifting his hand in a quelling gesture, "but she's – she could've been, here," he admits. "But she's taken a run at Bracken before. She needed an alibi, needed to be uninvolved for that part. There's no reason to keep her from what's next."

"It'll slow us down," Jackson growls, clearly unhappy.

"By what, an hour?" Castle asks. "I'd have thought you'd want to spend more time with your wife," he pokes.

Jackson's just gearing up for what'd probably be a blistering reply when an alarm sounds from upstairs. He's on the move before Castle can blink, bolting for the stairs. Castle follows less gracefully, burning his hand with the coffee that sloshes over the rim of the cup as he tries to hustle.

"Proximity alarm," Jackson murmurs as he stands before the security screens. Reaching for the keyboard, he selects a camera and uses a small joystick to adjust the angle of the camera that shows a white van parking on the street out front.

"Closet behind you," Jackson says, not looking away from the screen. Not entirely happy about being bossed around but still too groggy to say anything about it, Castle sets his coffee down on the desk and opens the closet. There's no cot and blankets here – instead, it's a daunting arsenal. "Everything for your home defense needs," Castle murmurs, to which Jackson offers no reply. Grabbing a handgun that looks like Beckett's for himself, Castle chooses an assault rifle for his father based on which one looks the most like the guns in his favorite video game. It must've been a good choice, because Jackson's brows raise in surprise as he accepts the weapon.

"Oh, crap," Jackson mutters as the door to the van opens.

"Trouble?" Castle asks, shaking his head and trying to come fully awake.

"Oh, yeah," Jackson affirms as the passengers come around from the far side of the van. "It's our wives. All of them."

* * *

"You sure it's okay to park here on the street?" Beckett asks, troubled by their blatant approach to the townhouse.

"We're just regular people here," Rita replies, chuckling at the thought that three 'regular people' are sporting multiple weapons and two stolen artifacts. "Besides, you don't know Jackson. If we tried to enter the garage, he'd probably shoot first and ask questions later. Better to let him see us approach," she replies, getting contemplative nods from Kate and Beckett, neither of whom had considered this aspect of being married to a spy. "Plus," Rita adds with a tone of happy menace, "this way he can see what's coming and sweat about it for a bit."

They've just reached the curb closest to the house when the door opens, revealing an agitated Castle.

"Move!" he yells with an arm motion to beckon them in as an upstairs window opens the same time the vexing black sedan screeches around the corner. Rita quickly assesses their position, dashing toward the house as a better option than the van. In her quick glimpse, though, she sees a black SUV approaching from the other end of the street.

The ladies are halfway to the door when Jackson opens fire from the upstairs window. He apparently picked up a different weapon after Castle left, though, as the sedan goes up in a blazing fireball. The SUV adjusts quickly, careening to a screeching halt and disgorging a distressing number of flak-jacketed agents.

"Not this again," Beckett groans loud enough for Kate to hear as they pound toward the front door. Neither needs to look to confirm that another SUV was on approach behind the sedan, meaning that more bad guys are on the way.

Castle's laying down suppressing fire from the doorway, but it's little more than noise – the chance that he'll hit anything in this mess is remote, and he knows it. As his weapon clicks on an empty chamber, he throws himself forward, tackling Kate just as a spray of weapons fire strafes the front of the house.

"Sorry Beckett. Or Kate. Whoever," he says, flustered while standing and hauling up the woman he knocked down. "We need to get inside."

Rita's already inside, bolting up the stairs, probably to arm herself to the teeth. Castle, Kate, and Beckett manage to pile inside, landing in a tangled heap where Beckett manages to slam the door with a foot just as Jackson again opens fire from above, pinning their assailants. After a spray of weapons fire, there's another explosion from outside.

"That was a new van!" Rita yells as she knocks out glass from a window overlooking the back. "It's going on your requisition form!"

"No way, honey," Jackson yells in a gap of gunfire, sounding like he's having the time of his life. "You led 'em here, you do the paperwork. Don't suppose you checked for trackers after picking up your newbies?"

"Aargh!" Rita retorts before engaging in her own firearm therapy, yelling either at her husband or at the approaching bad guys. "Hey Becketts, get your asses moving! We need to get out of here!"

Castle's reloading when he hears one version of his wife tell the other to go upstairs. Not only do they seem to be working together, he marvels, still not convinced he's awake, but it sounds like they've got two artifacts. He's trying to make sense of this turn of events as he stands to move for the stairs. He's tackled from behind, just as heavy-weapons fire lances through the door, sending splinters of hardwood and artifact flying through the foyer.

"No!" Castle yells, seeing the remaining pieces of the shattered artifact strewn across the floor. It takes him a moment to register the blood spatter. " _No_ ," he groans, turning and returning to a scene from his private hell. There, again, lays a twitching body bleeding out.

"No!" he yells again, scrambling over to cover the body of the woman who sacrificed herself to save him. He's halfway there when he's pushed aside and gentle hands hold him back while Rita pulls the body out of the entryway and into the kitchen.

"Kate, I love you," Castle says while breaking, his tired, guilty mind rebelling at this sick scene of déjà vu. "I love you, Kate. Please don't go."

"Love you," she replies, bloody spittle already tricking out of the corner of her mouth. "Wish I could've… loved you better," she gasps, clearly in pain and struggling to remain conscious. "Go," she coughs. "Take your wife. Be happy," she gasps again. "Be safe. Love…," she starts to say, before the light leaves her eyes and she goes still.

The situation around him is quickly deteriorating, but Castle can't really register or focus, his tired, guilty mind finally overwhelmed. In his shock, he doesn't notice the frantic activity around him, the discussions with Rita, the efforts to retrieve something – maybe the other artifact, he thinks dumbly – from the body. The body. Oh, God, the body.

A sharp slap across his face rouses Castle enough to focus on something other than the blood fanning across the kitchen floor. " _Richard_!" his father yells, snapping him into enough focus that he's surprised it's his father here. He and Rita must've changed places when he was thinking about…

Another slap brings him all the way back, replaces some of his despondency with anger. Jackson's moving to give him another slap when Castle catches his hand with a growl.

"Son, you need to leave. We've got a way out, but you need to go back," he says gently but firmly, nodding to a teary Beckett who's already got the artifact out and ready. "Go. We'll take care of her," he says, nodding to the body on the floor.

Getting him to look at the body slows Castle down again, until he feels a familiar hand on his arm. He covers the hand with his own but keeps his gaze fixed on the results of their actions. _My fault_ , he thinks as he sees the blood again, realizes that he's coated in it. _All my fault_ …

This time, it's not a slap from his father that draws his attention. An explosion decimates the remaining tatters of the front door, a booming crash erupting just as the world goes white.

* * *

Vibration in his pocket rouses Castle, his phone reminding him of the efforts that people here went through to find him now that he's back in his own reality.

" _Give that back or I'll kill you where you stand_ ," are the first words that Castle hears when he comes back to himself. He's prone on the ground, ears ringing, body aching, and heart and soul in tatters. Struggling upright, he shakes his head in an effort to make sense of the scene before him. He's in the loft, somehow. There's Beckett – bloodied and fierce, with weapon drawn and pointed at… _Serena Kaye_? Serena is in his home for some reason, and it looks like she's taken the artifact. Alexis is there, too, wearing an expression he can't quite place.

"Stop!" he means to say, though it comes out as a yell, either due to his state of duress or his impaired hearing. Everyone freezes in place and watches as he lurches to his feet. He must be a gruesome sight – soaked in Kate's blood, exhausted, and wearier in body and spirit than he could've imagined. Opting for action rather than words, he walks up to Serena, intentionally blocking Beckett's line of sight. There's been enough shooting today.

Without words, Castle holds out his hand, leaving it there until Serena slowly hands over the artifact. "Rick, are you alright?" she asks kindly.

"No," he admits. "I'm not alright. I've done terrible things. I've lost someone important to me. Someone I loved," he admits with an apologetic shrug. "I need to rest. I need to heal," he continues, his choppy sentences clearly showing his distress. "I need to spend time with my wife and figure out how I can live with myself."

His short declaration seems to leave him exhausted. Perhaps in recognition of the raw emotion so blatantly on display, Serena reaches for the hand not holding the artifact. "Rest, Rick," she says compassionately. Dropping a quick kiss on his cheek, she releases his hand. "Get some rest. Things will look better soon. Just keep breathing until then."

With that advice, and a small smirk, Serena begins to take her leave, to Alexis' dismay.

"You're leaving?" Alexis asks. "But…"

"Your father is home and he's safe," Serena says gently. "He needs to rest. Rick, call me when you feel up to it," she says with a sad smile before showing herself out. This leaves an uncertain Alexis in place and not sure of how to proceed, her gaze flitting from her father to his wife to the artifact.

"Pumpkin," Castle sighs. "I'm so happy to see you. I could really use a hug," he says before looking down at his bloodstained clothes and hands. "But how about a raincheck? Tomorrow?"

"But…," Alexis trails off again, unable to restrain herself from cutting a look at woman she blames for her father's woes.

"Alexis," Castle sighs, "we'll talk. I'll hear you out, but I'm going to ask the same of you. But not now. I'm not up for it right now. I just need to rest."

"With her," Alexis replies, her tone not quite succeeding in hiding her jealousy.

"Yes," Castle answers. "Tomorrow," he reiterates while walking close and leaning in so that he can drop a kiss on her forehead without staining her.

Alexis deflates at the kiss, the fight leaving her but the discomfort lodged in place. "Tomorrow," she agrees ruefully. "Call me," she says as she steps past him to the door, her lack of greeting or farewell to anyone but her father accentuated by the hair flip that precedes the closing of the door.

The silence of the loft seems oppressive after the events of the day. Heaving a sigh, Castle grimaces as he runs a hand through his hair. "Beckett," he asks as he approaches with arms opening wide, "I need a hug."

"Wait," she says with a hand on his sternum. In reaction to his look of undisguised hurt, she softens her tone. "I'd like a hug too, Rick," she explains as her hand moves from his sternum to the breast pocket of his blazer, "but I'm not Beckett. You need to read this," she says as she extracts his cell phone and holds it out for him.

Confused and still hurt, Castle takes the phone and struggles with numb thumbs to unlock the device. Noting that the most recent text is from her, he pulls it up and collapses onto the couch as he reads.

 _Dear Rick, this is the second time I've written you a letter like this. I wish I'd learned more from the first one, remembered the lessons that seemed so clear then. I've made so many mistakes, hurt our beautiful story in so many ways. I see clearly now, and I know what to do._

 _If there's a way for me to save you, to end this, I'm going to do it. And if you're reading this, then I succeeded. If I'm gone, please don't blame yourself. I cast this die years ago, here or there. Don't mourn me, Babe, saving you is my path to redemption._

 _But you know how this works. If I saved your life, then you owe me, right? I want you to live, Castle, and be happy. Be happy with Kate. Take care of her – she's more fragile than she looks, and maybe more stubborn. She hasn't been hurt the way I have. She can give you the family I feared I couldn't. She loves you. It's impossible for Kate Beckett to not love Richard Castle._

 _If reality is multidimensional, then heaven must span all of the possibilities, right? So, I'll be waiting for you, up where all of the Kate Becketts can love all of the Richard Castles. I love you with all of my heart. Always._

* * *

AN2: If it's any consolation, I'm surprised, too. This isn't where I thought we'd end up when I started this story. But, when I sat down to outline the conclusion after chapter three, this seemed like the truest outcome. I couldn't very well change the rating or add a disclaimer at that point or I would've given everything away. My biggest concern, actually, was with timing. I'd decided to pursue this route before the recent, disastrous announcement about the changes to the show for next year. I'm still heartsick about that development and almost scrapped this story as a result. So, don't misread this development as being consistent with ABC's nonsense. Besides, there's still a Beckett with Castle, just a different version of Beckett. (Who would still be played by Stana Katic were this an actual episode, thank you very much.)

One chapter left. Until then, I think I'll drop into hiding for a bit. Please be gentle!


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. But my thanks to those who created them and let us play.

A/N: A reminder for the AU setup: "Beckett" refers to the character we all know, while "Kate" is how her AU twin is referenced. Like the show, Beckett usually thinks of her husband as Castle, while Kate thinks of him as Rick.

.

* * *

Standing in front of the window, Castle ignores the undone tie draped around his neck and the glass of whiskey in his hand. Instead, he's staring forward, looking past his reflection in the glass to focus on the churning, slate-grey sea beyond. For an author, it's a metaphor that's a little too obvious.

Taking a sip of his drink, he's surprised only that his melancholy took so long to arrive. He'd known that today would be difficult, that he'd need some time to himself. Today is about rising from the ashes, about looking forward. But he can't define the future without looking at the past. He's tried that before and it's ended in failure every time. So, as much as it hurts, he's going to do this right, which means thinking about everything that happened from the day he lost Beckett.

It's a gentle place to start, since he can remember so little of that day – just a gray fog of despondency and disbelief. He can almost make out vague scenes of Kate caring for him, but he doubts these memories are genuine. It's too likely that his guilt, shock, and inherent desire to reclaim the past created these false recollections to calm his troubled soul. Goodness knows he needed some peace, some promise of relief after what happened in the alternate reality. But he knows himself well enough to know that he was probably no better than an inert zombie for days.

And even if the scenes in his mind are suspect, he's still certain that Kate did care for him in those first, terrible days. In fact, that first day almost broke them and might've saved them. Unwilling to leave him alone, Kate sacrificed the opportunity to return to her reality until many hours later, after he finally collapsed in pharmaceutical-induced sleep. By then, Beckett's body had already been found and as far as all in that reality were concerned, Captain Beckett of the 12th precinct was dead. Kate returned long enough to call the Alexis in that reality and to collect some precious keepsakes from her apartment, which had already been searched by investigators. Since then, they've talked often about what happened on that terrible day and Kate assured him every time that she would've stayed in his reality regardless. Castle's pretty sure he believes her now.

In disguise, they returned to her reality a week later for what is easily the lowest point of his life. Security was tight in general, considering that the captain was murdered, and they in particular had reason to hide. There was still a chance that Castle would be recognized, but Kate would certainly stand out. Although not to her father, who'd been missing from before Jackson grabbed Bracken. Alexis received a place of honor at the funeral as a friend of the departed, and the transmitter she wore allowed Kate and Castle to listen to the ceremony from the other side of the cemetery. If anyone noticed them, a couple dressed in black and shedding fat, ugly tears hardly seemed out of place. After the service, Alexis had sought them out, encouraged them to get back to where they were safe. They'd laughed at that, thinking that either reality was perilous for them.

But that's what held them together in those first, tortured days – the gentle investment in their wellbeing by Castle's daughter from the other reality. After the funeral, they'd given the lone, surviving artifact to Alexis and encouraged her to visit, going so far as to set a regular night for her appearances. Having lived a year without her father seemed to have instilled in the young woman a joy at the idea that she could be a part of his life again, even help him. Having missed the growing pains of Castle's relationship with Beckett, this version of Alexis was happy to see her father and Kate spending time together, both because she considered Kate a friend and because she'd witnessed the series of flings her father's despondency had encouraged and considered Kate far superior to the previous women in his life, including Meredith and Gina.

Beckett's text was the other thing that helped keep them together at the start. It would've been easy for Castle to resent Kate's survival, to question her motives or her story that Beckett had made her promise to get her husband and her cell phone to safety if anything happened. But the text sounded like Beckett, and her dying blessing when telling Castle "take his wife and be happy," made her terrible plan obvious in retrospect. True to her character, Beckett had made her own choice. It wasn't the first time Castle was frustrated with one of Beckett's decisions, but knowing that she'd chosen her path helped hold back the guilt, for a while.

After the funeral, Castle and Kate had become almost reclusive. Castle returned to the precinct to work cases and Beckett ran the precinct, but there was a noticeable change in their behaviors. Both clocked off at quitting time, even if it meant Castle left Ryan and Esposito at a crime scene. Kate was still the captain of a busy police precinct, so they often continued working at home. Leaving the precinct allowed them to avoid the prying eyes and let them focus on trying to find a way forward in peace. While it had the added benefit of helping Kate get up to speed on how things differed in this reality, it also helped them establish a routine in which they spent quiet time together, where working on even the administrative nonsense from the precinct helped them build a rapport and a fledgling friendship.

Their friends and colleagues noted the change. Most were mollified by quiet words that they were together again and taking time to rebuild their relationship. For most, this was welcome news, even if it was treated with only cautious optimism. But the free pass wasn't complete. Vikram disappeared two weeks after they returned the precinct and Kate ignored his requests for meetings in favor of spending time with Castle. And Esposito and Ryan grew exceptionally curious when they tried to report this news to Kate, who had no idea what the "Livingston case" was about, though she covered well once it became apparent they were talking about Vikram. The boys seemed to excuse her lapse in light of the other changes in her life, but when out in the field, Castle had the feeling that questions and comments from the boys were designed to elicit more information than he was willing to share.

Life at the loft had changed, too. While the Alexis from the alternate reality visited regularly, the Alexis that Castle had raised rarely turned up, still hurt by the way her father had been treated and by his unwillingness to listen to her advice. Averse to be completely excluded from his life, she'd taken to seeking him out for lunch or dinner where the two of them could reconnect. That wasn't a great solution, but it bought Castle and Kate time and helped avoid awkward questions about why Kate was staying in the guest room. In fact, aside from Alexis' absence, the living arrangement had reminded Castle of when Beckett had stayed at the loft after Dunn destroyed her apartment. The similarity contributed to his feelings of guilt, but it had helped, too.

"I asked her about that," Kate had offered quietly over dinner one night when Castle confessed to his confused feelings and recollections, "asked her if that's when the two of you got together."

Castle, who still remembers that he'd been torn between curiosity at Beckett's response and concern that an answer would make him feel worse about having Kate in the loft, hadn't been able to manage a reply at the time. But Kate provided one anyway, perhaps in an effort to help drive them toward some resolution of the limbo that the loft was starting to represent.

"She said it wasn't," Kate said as she ducked her head to catch Castle's eyes, "but that it should've been. She wouldn't explain why, though."

Castle had chuckled about the comments, even then. "I'm not surprised," he'd said with a fond smile on his face. "We both missed opportunities before we finally connected, and even talking about them later wasn't very comfortable."

"But you have a story," Kate had said, knowing him well enough to know that Castle would've explored this idea, even if he and Beckett hadn't discussed it.

"I think," Castle speculated, "it was about fighting expectations, retaining control. We had a spark of attraction right from the start," Castle said, which had prompted a blush in both Kate and himself. "Others saw it, assumed we'd act on it. I had a reputation as a playboy, and Beckett had been a bit of a wild child back in the day, even if she was buttoned down at work. So, it just seemed like something that should happen. Especially after she moved in here. And instead of seeming like fate, it seemed like a loss of control – everything was pointing in one direction and she started to resent what felt like a loss of choice. So," he'd said with a sad shrug, "she fought it. Found a way to show that she was in control, still had options."

That conversation, which had started so innocently, soured as the days went on as the lack of control that Castle mentioned seemed to be occurring again, infecting the interactions between he and Kate. He still frequently saw Beckett, not Kate, when he turned to her. Worse, he was wracked with guilt when he recognized her as Kate, concerned that he was dishonoring Beckett's memory. Kate experienced her own turmoil as she struggled to understand whether her feelings for Castle, which had started as a deep attraction, were motivated by love, respect, or guilt. And while she was overjoyed at having a father again, her pleasure sharpened the guilt she felt for her father's disappearance in her old reality. Surrounded by these oppressive emotions and cloistered in their quiet life at the loft, Kate and Castle found it increasingly difficult to get perspective on whether they were fated, or cursed, to be together.

Things came to a head when Beckett needed to see a doctor to complete a routine annual physical. She and Castle realized that she couldn't see any of the physicians who'd treated Beckett – the sudden absence of the trauma suffered from a sniper's bullet would prove too difficult to explain. So, they'd worked to collect all of Beckett's medical files so that they could be edited and adjusted before Kate sought new physicians. It was Kate who'd gasped at reading the cardiologist's file. After suggesting to Castle that he leave it alone, she reluctantly handed over the folder, unsure about whether it was wiser to stay and offer support or to afford him some privacy. He made the decision moot, turning immediately to the documents that described, in clinical detail, the complications due to her operations and the likely difficulty Beckett would've faced in trying to have children. The doctor's concerns were not limited to delivery, as even carrying a baby was considered high-risk.

This sudden insight into what Beckett might've meant when she wrote ' _She hasn't been hurt the way I have, she can give you the family I feared I couldn't_ ' hit Castle like a hammer. At first, Kate thought he was furious that his wife had withheld the information from him. But as she carefully cajoled some reaction out of him, she learned otherwise. "Families come in all shapes and sizes," he'd finally groaned, head in hands.

The thought that his hopes or expectations might've contributed to Beckett making her extreme decision finally broke Castle. He withdrew into himself, a haunted look clinging to him despite the attentions or efforts of either the visiting Alexis or Kate. Even Alexis from his reality dared to visit the loft when her father stopped returning phone calls.

Kate left them alone, hoping that a father-daughter conversation might help rouse Castle. Her hope was misplaced, at least initially. Alexis emerged from the office looking no happier. She was so upset, in fact, that she spoke with Kate. To this day, neither Kate nor Castle knows what tipped her off, but Alexis saved them that day.

"Beckett saw a therapist," she'd said to a surprised Kate. "She took dad when his nightmares got bad. I think," she'd said while looking intensely at Kate, "maybe both of you should talk with him." With that bomb dropped, she'd walked to the door and was halfway out before she turned back. "Good luck, Kate."

And so it was that Dr. Burke was surprised to find a three-hour block of an afternoon reserved for an inaugural session with Kate Beckett and Rick Castle. Alarmed by the sudden return of his former patient (whom he'd privately thought would've benefited from more regular sessions), Dr. Burke's wildest imaginings proved a poor guess at what that visit entailed. With Castle still despondent, Kate took the lead in planning their session, which included borrowing a certain item from the other Alexis.

The therapy session had started as normal: reintroductions and pleasant, forced chatter. But Kate had seized control in the opening minutes, explaining to Dr. Burke that she and Castle had issues that really couldn't be addressed without some radical therapy. So flabbergasted was Dr. Burke that his normally reticent patient had suggested something intense, he had just nodded and followed Kate's lead, even as she asked him to stand and extend a hand. Then, after linking her other hand with Castle, Kate clasped her therapist's hand before all went white.

Dr. Burke found his instantaneous appearance in a cemetery fairly disconcerting. And just as he'd blinked his eyes clear and restored some of his composure, his eyes alit on Beckett's gravestone, there beside Johanna's. There was space for a third marker, but this Jim had not yet been found and Kate had been resolute in refusing to believe the worst.

On a bench in a dreary cemetery, Kate had explained the whole story, without embellishment or omission. She described the desperation that had led her to find Rick, her fear of rejection that motivated her disingenuous approach. She told him how Castle had seen through her charade and still helped her, stopping short of leaving with her. In halting, guilt-laden words, she confessed to stealing him away, dragging him here in an effort to secure his help and his affections.

Her faltering had seemed to rouse Castle, who described in dispassionate detail what he'd done in this reality. Dr. Burke smiled at the description of his meeting with his daughter, but that smile curdled when Castle shifted to describe meeting his father. That admission led seamlessly to confessing the kidnapping, torture, and murder of a US senator. Dr. Burke had still been obviously trying to figure out his reporting requirements for the attack on a man who'd already been condemned and murdered in his own reality when Castle moved to the next part of the story, which included hit squads, more violence from Castle's father, and Beckett's greatest sacrifice. At this point, Castle had withdrawn again, unable to continue. Rather than speak, he'd reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone, showing Dr. Burke the last text message he'd received from Beckett.

It was a credit to Dr. Burke that he agreed to continue their meeting. He'd clearly been deeply disturbed by the notion of an alternate reality, much less frank descriptions of kidnapping, assault, murder, and domestic kill-teams. Ultimately, though, he seemed to adopt an attitude that the alternate reality was a type of reverse-Jungian archetypal construct, a psychological phantom zone in which harsh realities could be deconstructed and explored in a hypothetical plane. "Like Vegas," Castle recalls joking. Burke hadn't appreciated the humor, but he remembers Kate's joy at hearing his first joke since learning of Beckett's health news.

Despite his efforts to appreciate some kind of academic acceptance of the alternate reality, Dr. Burke's joy at returning "home" to his office had been palpable. Still, despite his trauma, Dr. Burke confessed that the "field trip" had been a justified if terrifying excursion, for without it he certainly would've diagnosed a particularly vivid form of shared delusion. Instead, he accepted their story enough to fashion a treatment plan for a pair of adults suffering a lifetime's worth of internal and external wounds. As he moved past the fantastical premise and cemetery visit, Dr. Burke had embraced the challenge Kate and Castle represented, though he was typically frank – he was not convinced that they should be together, either in therapy or in general. But he agreed to help them.

Thus began several long, trying months where Kate and Castle coexisted while trying to build a stable friendship. But while they'd been idle, the world kept moving.

The first surprise was a visit from Castle's father and his wife, who had brazenly knocked at the door to the loft one night without warning or announcement. His father smirked when Castle asked if the doorman to his building was unharmed, which did not instill confidence. But Rita chastened Jackson with a look before turning to address Kate. "It's over – your Locksat case is over," she'd said. Then, after a shrewd look, she'd added "But you know that already, don't you?"

Kate's simple nod was sufficient communication for the ladies, but for Jackson it prompted a whoop and an overly vigorous slap to Castle's back. "I'm impressed," he'd said proudly while looking at his son and Kate. "I didn't think you had it in you. But you did it exactly the right way – just like I would've done it."

Neither Castle nor Kate had confessed anything about alternate realities or how the plan they'd implemented upon return from Beckett's funeral was one that the alternate version of Jackson had concocted. Instead, they'd asked enough questions to learn about a gruesome "accident" that had claimed the life of a CIA Director and his team, a freak vehicle malfunction that had plunged the group – which was traveling together for a reason no one seemed to know – into a ravine. And if some of the injuries on the charred, recovered bodies seemed inconsistent with the occurrence or timing of the accident, not many questions were asked.

"Was Vikram included in the group?" Kate had asked hesitantly of Rita, receiving a head shake in reply.

"Perhaps. Probably," she'd amended. "Not all of the bodies were recognizable. If your pathologist has prints, DNA, or dental records, we could try to determine if he's among the unidentified."

Kate had promised to check and forward information along, but the conversation wound down after that. Neither Kate nor Castle felt entirely comfortable in the company of Jackson and Rita, the memory of their encounter in the alternate reality still too fresh. Castle was also wary of an unexpected visit from his mother, which might cause some interesting drama.

Still, their visit was better than the next unexpected arrival at the loft. Castle's second wife'd had her fill of waiting for him to get over whatever block had made him unwilling to write another Nikki Heat novel. She'd arrived in a towering fury, which grew even blacker when she realized that Castle was not in the loft alone.

"I thought you left him," she'd said bluntly to a Kate who looked momentarily taken aback before shifting gears quickly.

"I would never be so stupid," Kate replied with equal frankness, happily staring Gina down. "I did what was necessary to protect him. I will _always_ do what's necessary to protect him. And right now, that includes showing you out."

Shocked by Kate's assertive response, Gina had actually wavered in place, which was the end of her visit. Kate had approached calmly and taken Gina's arm to escort her to the door. She explained, along the way, that Castle was not under contract and was in fact exploring new ideas, with her blessing and support. She did not share, because Gina didn't need to know, that Castle's writing was now more of a therapeutic device discussed with Dr. Burke to help address his feelings of guilt. Even though much of Castle's previous work contained hints of his actual life, his current character – a guilty man whose court case fell apart on a technicality and who'd been seeking redemption ever since – was simply too nakedly a literary version of Castle. Perhaps it would later inspire a novel, but it was motivated by a different purpose. A purpose that Gina would neither appreciate nor honor if it meant the possibility of a new Richard Castle series.

But while Castle had been idle on the writing front in his reality, _Naked Heat_ was selling surprisingly well for his daughter in the alternate reality. In fact, the book had spurred an interest in determining who 'the real Nikki Heat' might be, given the seeming authenticity of the tale. Those who knew of Castle's first foray to the alternate reality thought they knew, even though Alexis had respected her father's request to remove the dedication. The phoenix carved on Beckett's gravestone seemed to support their suspicions.

The discussion of Nikki Heat's success in the reality from which she arrived had prompted Kate to finally ask Castle what happened the night he returned from her reality the first time. Looking back on it now, he recognizes it as one of the major turning points in his life, though it hardly seemed so significant at the time.

"What happened, Rick?" Kate had asked carefully, but with genuine interest. "When you left me, you were so fearful, worried that you wouldn't make it back or that she wouldn't take you back if you did. Instead, you married later that day. How?"

Castle remembers thinking about how to answer, before offering a response as simple then as it was the first time with Beckett. "We just did. We realized we were waiting without really knowing why. So, we just stopped waiting."

Kate had pondered that answer for several long moments, turning it over in her head and examining it. Just when he'd expected her to retreat from the emotional topic she'd never breached before, she'd surprised him. She pinned him with a look a handful of simple words. "Do you think you could do it again?"

So, without fanfare, another near-death experience, intervention by friends or foes, or a raging thunderstorm, their relationship changed direction that day, turning like a small creek that finds an easier path to the river. Kate and Castle began a fragile, chaste courtship. It had built slowly, by necessity, with halting steps forward and temporary setbacks. But the relationship they built was stronger for the care that'd gone into the foundation.

A knock on the door captures Castle's attention. "Come in," he calls out, still looking out at the sea and still holding a glass of whiskey. "Hey Pumpkin," he says as he hears the door open. "I'll be ready soon. Just lost track of time."

"Not sure any of your women would like to hear you calling me Pumpkin," Serena Kaye says from the doorway, leaning on the doorframe with her arms crossed and smirk in place. She looks lovely in her evening gown, as if ready for a lavish event.

"Serena?" Castle asks in surprise. "Sorry," he covers, realizing that his mother would be appalled by his manners. Setting his drink down, he approaches his guest. "I just didn't expect to see you."

"Alexis invited me," she explains as she walks into the room to meet Castle. He's wary about the hands that reach toward him, until they grab the ends of his undone necktie, about which he'd completely forgotten. "Your Alexis, I mean," she clarifies as she lifts his collar up before returning to his tie, "not the 'half-sister' she's hanging around with downstairs. No," she continues with a smile at Castle's look of surprise, "your daughter invited me. We've kept in touch. I made her promise that I'd get to see how the story ended."

"Serena…," Castle groans, not ready for unexpected surprises today. He reaches out to take control of his own tie, but gets his hand slapped gently for his effort. "Believe it or not, I've actually managed my own tie in the past. And look," he says while lifting and waggling a foot, "I can tie my own shoes, too."

"Relax," Serena laughs. "I'm not here to cause trouble for you."

"Still," Castle replies, trying again to regain control of his tie and getting his other hand smacked, "I'm not sure my wife would appreciate seeing you here."

"Your ' _wife_ ' doesn't even know me," Serena laughs in response, looping another end of his tie and causing Castle to wonder what kind of mischief she's managing with his neckwear. "She met me for all of about two minutes. Granted," she admits with pursed lips and a small nod, "she did manage to threaten my life in that brief moment, but I don't hold it against her."

"What do you mean?" Castle asks to buy a little time, unable to turn around with Serena holding his tie like reins. "You met Beckett years ago."

"I did," she agrees, looking up from his tie to see into his eyes, "but I thought we were talking about Kate."

With Castle shocked to stillness, Serena continues. "I notice things, Rick, even more now than I did when we first met. Artwork, artifacts, jewelry, I notice it all. Occupational hazard," she laughs, then undoes the knot at his neck either in dissatisfaction or to buy more time for their conversation.

"Her watch…," Castle mentions in a low voice, making the connection.

"I'd always noticed it. She's a beautiful woman, and the man's watch on her wrist was a unique look," Serena compliments. "I'd noticed it when we first met, and again when she was working with Alexis and I to try to bring you back," she says, looping the tie in a different direction this time. "So, I noticed its absence when I took the artifact, and again when she was aiming her gun at me to get it back."

"She died to save us," Castle confesses in a low tone. It's the first time he's confided in anyone outside his small family, not that even all of their family know. It feels odd, but liberating, too. Especially today.

"I know," Serena says gently, releasing his tie and smoothing her hands on his shoulders. "We figured it out. I'm a bit annoyed that you never gave me a call," she says with a tug on his lapels, "but Alexis and I pieced together what must've happened. It's one of the reasons she tried to give you a little space."

"Thank you," Castle says emotionally as he bends to drop a gentle kiss on Serena's cheek. "Does anyone else know?"

"Not from us," Serena says with a sly smile, "but for the son of a spy and a police captain, you two aren't exactly good at being covert. I think others suspect, but don't know."

"Like who?" Castle asks, curiosity warring with alarm.

"Like your partners from the precinct, you big dope," she says, swatting his shoulder. "And her friend from the morgue. I mean, come on? Today's event? Dead giveaway."

"Lots of couples renew their vows," Castle shrugs defensively.

"Sure," Serena agrees. "And some of them use the chance to do it right. By doing things like, let's see – actually planning in advance, inviting their friends and family to attend, using a chapel, hosting a dance. All good things to do if you missed out the first time," she says with a nod before quirking an eyebrow. "Or if you weren't there the first time."

Blushing, Castle looks down to inspect the shoes about which he'd bragged earlier. "She deserves a proper wedding," he mumbles.

"Hey," Serena says, lifting his chin with a finger to recapture his attention. "So do you. I'm not saying it's a bad thing. In fact, I think it's wonderful that you've found a way forward. We were worried," she confesses, her own eyes a little glassy.

"So was I," he admits with a huff, pulling a laugh out of Serena, too. "I'm not trying to replace Beckett," he says quietly, feeling like he needs to explain. "It took me a long time to see Kate as someone different. Similar, sure, but different. She has to be Kate Beckett to everyone else, everyone who knew Beckett here. But to me, she's Kate," he says with quiet power. "My Kate."

"Your Kate," Serena agrees, patting him on the cheek before stepping away. "Who's waiting at the chapel. Which is another total giveaway, by the way," she snarks. "So, come on – check your tie, then get moving. The Alexi and I are your ride."

After checking himself in the window's reflection and giving her an impressed nod of approval, Castle returns to Serena's side and offers an elbow to escort her down to his waiting daughters. "Thank you," he says again, patting the arm that's looped around his. They both know the gratitude is more about her listening than her deft hand with a Shelby knot.

"You know, Rick," she answers in a bracing tone, clearly unwilling to be drawn into another emotional discussion, "I was a damn good thief. But I'm not in your league," she praises, pulling a startled look from the man beside her. "With danger, corruption, murderers, betrayal, you managed to steal a little peace, happiness, and love. Now, you know the old saying, right?" she asks pointedly as they approach his daughters, who look like they've teamed up to admonish him about running late.

"The one about doing the same thing but expecting a different outcome?" Castle asks with a quirked brow, wondering if she's going to tease him after all.

"No," Serena scolds with a look, "we just got done talking about what you're doing differently. No, I was talking about the saying in my old trade – _there are no good, old thieves_. You know why?" she asks. "Because if they're good, they know when to take their winnings and give up the trade. It's time, Rick," she says gently as she disengages from his side. "You're too good to keep going. Take what you have and live. It's what she would've wanted," she finishes by stepping away.

"It's what I want, too," Castle admits with a smile as his daughters flank him, each taking an arm to lead him to the car, where he'll start the next chapter of his life. "It's what I've always wanted."

* * *

AN: Another story completed. I hope you enjoyed the ride, though it might've been a bit jarring at times. If so, please drop me a note. I always enjoy hearing what people found most interesting. For me, I think I actually got the most out of writing the scene where Castle meets with Alexis from the other reality for the first time. Second chances, I guess.

Also, should you find any mistakes or typos in what you read (here or in other stories of mine), I'll fix them if you drop me a note. Just don't try any funny business – I did not misspell "Beckett" as "Kate" at the end of chapter nine.

Next up, One Quarter. The first several chapters are ready, but I want to write a few more before I start to post. I promise, no flitting between alternate realities or developing unusual abilities in that story.

And, finally, Happy Mother's Day! Time to put this down and go cook brunch.


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